


The Weight of Life

by Vernisee



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Cursed Jaskier | Dandelion, Dead Jaskier | Dandelion, Depressed Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotional Hurt, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Idiots in Love, Jaskier | Dandelion Needs a Hug, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, References to Depression, Sad Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Worried Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27497434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vernisee/pseuds/Vernisee
Summary: A few years after the unfortunate adventure with the dragon hunt, Geralt accidentally runs into Jaskier in the exactly same tavern, where the said adventure began. Maybe it wouldn't be that surprising (we are talking about the travelling bard after all), if Jaskier didn't look and behave so strange. How else can you describe approaching the witcher without making any indication to what has happened on the top of a certain mountain and simply paying him for killing a monster?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 151
Kudos: 624





	1. What is that man?

**Author's Note:**

> It seems that the lockdown my country introduced recently gives me no other choice but to dwell on some ideas that are running inside of my head. So that's what I do on late evenings. 
> 
> The story is very loosely inspired by the Polish literature relating to the Slavic pagan holiday of the dead, called "Dziady". It focused on trying to win the favor of ghosts by hosting them in a proper way. 
> 
> „Kto marzeń tknięty chorobą,  
> Sam własnej sprawca katuszy”.  
> – A. Mickiewicz, “Dziady. Widowisko cz. I”
> 
> In loose translation:  
> "Who is touched by the illness of dreams,  
> Is the perpetrator of own torture".

Geralt was tired. For weeks he had been looking for people hired by the rulers of the four kingdoms to find and kill Ciri. The Lion Cub of Cintra became an important pawn in the game to control the area around the Jaruga river. The witcher managed to fing out that the hired assassins were clearly professionals. They were extremely cautious and Geralt was starting to feel like he was chasing his own tail.

The fact that he did not notice the man immediately could be explained exactly by his exhaustion. Geralt dreamed simply of a mug of ale, warm food and a moment of peace, so as soon as he got his order, he headed straight to the empty table in the corner of the inn. He paid no attention to the noisy villagers and arguing drunks. The inn was full of them this evening, which was getting on his nerves a little bit. He wanted to think his next moves through. Fortunatelly, none of today’s patrons seemed keen on disturbing the witcher.

Geralt managed to drink half of his mug's contents before he finally felt the unpleasant feeling of being watched. He looked up and slowly scanned the room. Eventually, his eyes met those of the man sitting at the far end of the inn. The witcher's heart suddenly turned into a stone, which dropped into the bottom his stomach, causing a strange sting of pain.

It was Jaskier on the other side of the room. The witcher had no doubts about it, although the inn was shrouded in twilight and the man was behaving so differently than the bard usually did. Jaskier wasn’t playing the lute, wasn’t flirting with a daughter of the innkeeper nor laughing with the group of villagers. He was sitting all alone, looking like he wanted to blend into the background. Though, with his gaze he was drilling a hole in Geralt's forehead.

The witcher was expecting that the bard will show some sign of embarrasement once he realizes that Geralt caught him red-handed on the staring. However, nothing of the sort happened. Jaskier was still looking at him, but this time straight in the eyes. His face wasn’t showing any emotion, but the witcher could tell that the bard was having some sort of an internal discussion.

It has been three years since he last saw Jaskier. The bard disappeard right after that damned dragon hunt. Geralt made a mistake on the top of that mountain. He was so sure about Jaskier’s devotion that he thought the bard will simply shake off the next portion of insults, like he did so many times before. This time though, the witcher found out that humans had their limits of taking the humiliation the hard way. Jaskier was nowhere to be found when Geralt finally made it down from the mountain, all of his belongings gone from Roach’s saddlebags.

At first, he thought he will find the bard waiting for him in the nearest village. Jaskier never held a grudge for long, but at the same time liked to make it dramatic. When it turned out that the younger man wasn’t there, Geralt suspected that perhaps he needed a little bit more time for himself and that he will show up eventually within the next few weeks. Catching up with the witcher never seemed to be a problem for the bard. The witcher began to worry after a month of silence. At the end, he decided to turn back and start to ask about Jaskier in all taverns nearby the cursed mountain. He didn’t get any useful information, no matter whether he was asking politely or threatening the villagers. Then the war began and the witcher had to suspend the search and focus on Ciri’s safety.

The fact that Jaskier was here was surprising, mostly because it was exactly the same inn in which they met Yennefer before the dragon hunt. It was exactly the same inn Geralt had came to right after the hunt, thinking Jaskier will be waiting for him there. What was the bard doing here right now though, was a mystery.

Geralt's thoughts were interrupted by Jaskier’s movement. The bard's face suddenly became determined and confident. Geralt watched as the bard got up and slowly started to walk towards him. He was bracing himself for an outburst of anger, followed by one of Jaskier’s famous monologues about how the witcher treats him unfairly. Geralt decided that he will simply agree with the bard and promise him to do anything Jaskier wants. He will tell him about his adventures during the war, with all the details, or even let him ride Roach.

The witcher focused on the bard's condition when the man was halfway to his table. Jaskier’s clothes were actually raggs, the red fragments indicated that it could have been the same doublet the bard wore during the dragon hunt. What was worse though, was Jaskier’s face. It was pale, his eyes were dull with dark circles underneath. It also looked like a man lost a lot of weight.

Geralt swallowed hard. Has the bard been so badly affected by the war?

The pang of guilt hit him at that thought. If the witcher didn’t push Jaskier away, the bard surely wouldn’t be in such a dramatic state. Geralt would have made sure Jaskier is healthy, has enough of food and won’t get hurt by Nilfgaard or the bandits lurking for the belongings of war refugees.

„Witcher”, Jaskier nodded when he finally made it to the table. Geralt flinched, he has never heard so cold tone in the bard’s voice before. „I have a job for you”, the younger man announced.

„What?”, Geralt asked dumbly.

Jaskier took it as the invitation and settled down on the opposite bench.

„A job”, Jaskier repeated. „You are a monster hunter, aren’t you?”.

The witcher frowned, but made an affirmative grunt. Did the bard lost his memory? Geralt was expecting really everything, starting from shouting and ending up with Jaskier punching him hard, but giving an errand wasn’t on the list. That was the last thing he expected. Well, to be honest such a possibility didn’t cross his mind, so it couldn’t even be the last he would have thought of.

„There is a monster in the surrounding forests. North of here. They say it’s a specter or something like that. It's becoming hungry, it will tear someone apart soon”, the bard said and put the purse on the table.

Geralt sent him a surprised and also hurt look. Jaskier clearly chose not to pay any attention to that.

„A hundred crowns”, he continued. „I don’t have more. I know you used to take care of monsters for less than that, though”.

The witcher studied the man's face for a moment, desperatley looking for any proof that Jaskier was joking. The bard has never treated him as what he really was, as a mutant made by magic to kill monsters for adequate payment. Surely, Jaskier knew he could simply ask him for help.

„I don’t want your money, Jaskier”, Geralt stated when he realised that the bard was serious. With his eyesight he was trying to show the bard that he could put down the act and start persuading him in his usual way. _„Food, women and wine, Geralt”_ , the sentence suddenly echoed in the witcher's mind.

„And I don’t want your charity, witcher”, Jaskier turned out to be adamant. He sent Geralt a hard look. „Will you take the job or not?”.

Geralt wanted to throw the money back in Jaskier’s face. He wanted to refuse, saying he has his own problems to solve right now. But more than anything, he wanted the bard back at his side. And here was the fate giving him the chance, maybe the only one. He should take it, even if it meant humiliating himself by accepting money from a friend. He could return the money to Jaskier once the bard wasn’t so angry with him anymore.

„Fine”, Geralt grunted. „Fifty now, fifty after the job is done”.

„Take everything now”, Jaskier moved the purse towards him. „I know you, I now you will hold your part of a bargain”, he said confidently.

The witcher opened his mouth to argue, but was stoped by Jaskier’s cold eyes. He sighed and took the purse.

„And how will you know the job is done? Am I to bring you its head?”, Geralt asked.

Jaskier visibly winced at that.

„You don’t have to”, he finally shrugged. „Trust me, I will know when it’s done”.

That statement made the witcher frown.

„Why do you even care about that specter?”, Geralt wanted to somehow make this situation logical, as well as to prolong this conversation. „Is this for your new ballad? Are you working on the next masterpiece?”, the witcher tried to lighten up the mood.

He understood he made a big mistake when Jaskier’s face went completely dark.

„It’s not any of your business, witcher”, the bard informed him. „Do your job”, he added through gritted teeth and then, without a slighest gesture of goodbye, headed upstairs.

I took Geralt a moment to realise that Jaskier didn’t have his lute.

The witcher mindlessly rubbed the spot on his chest, which his medalion used to settle on, his eyes following the departing bard. 


	2. The internal struggle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wiecznych głodów jestem pastwą;  
> A któż mię nakarmić raczy?  
> Szarpie mię żarłoczne ptastwo;  
> A któż będzie mój obrońca?  
> Nie masz, nie masz mękom końca!  
> \- A. Mickiewicz, „Dziady”, cz. II
> 
> (I am the subject of eternal hungers;  
> Who will deign to free me?  
> I am being yanked by voracious birds;  
> Who will defend me?  
> There’s no, there’s no end of torment!)

A purse with money has never felt so heavy before. It felt like each of the hundred of coins was representing at least one of hundreds of insults he ever threw at Jaskier. Every coin was an insult itself, a payment for treating his only friend like a dirt. It was a bitter payment. Geralt knew he absolutely deserved to be mocked this way.

He spent the whole following night restless, wondering about what has happened to Jaskier and what the bard was doing during the three years they have been apart. His witcher senses were telling him that there was something very wrong with Jaskier. At the end, he decided to simply corner the youner man the next morning and get the answers to the questions that were haunting him by force. Not that he was planning to use the actual physical force on Jaskier, he would never harm the bard like that. He decided to act relentless and firm. Such a stance should work just fine. Jaskier always surrendered under the pressure of the witcher's stern gaze. Geralt didn’t use it the previous evening only because the bard managed to take him by surprise.

The problem was that Jaskier didn't come downstairs for breakfast. Geralt waited for him until noon, recreating in his mind various scenarios of the conversation that awaited them. Eventually, his patience ran out and he decided to go to the bard himself.

„Which room the bard rented?”, he asked the inkeeper.

The older man sent him a surprised look.

„What bard? There were no bards in here for a very long time”.

Right. Jaskier didn’t have his lute with him. Somehow, that thought made Geralt feel unpleasant chills. Jaskier never parted with his lute willingly. If he didn’t have it, it could only mean that it was taken from him by force. It was a proof that at some point during their time apart Jaskier must have been attacked.

„The man in red... raggs”, he explained, wincing visibly.

„I wouldn’t give a room to a begger”, the innkeeper huffed.

Geralt grunted and decided to check it himself. He cut off the innkeeper's protests with a menacing glance and climbed up the stairs. The first thing he noticed was the opened window at the end of the corridor. The witcher cursed silently. Jaskier wouldn’t have a problem with climbing out of it. The height was not too great and the bard had more than enough experience of running away from furious husbands in such a way. The question was, why Jaskier decided to leave the inn like that?

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose, irritated. He had years of experience and got played like a freshman. He sighed an took a moment to gather his thoughts.

Finally, he climbed out of window himself, softly landing on the street below. The witcher took a deep breath, trying to catch the bard’s scent. He didn’t manage to find any traces of familiar chamomile and lavender in the air, though. Geralt frowned. When he thought of it deeper, he didn’t remember feeling Jaskier's usual scent the previous evening either.

It didn’t have to be anything alarming, Geralt reasoned. The bard clearly didn’t have money to buy himself a new outfit, not to mention his favourite oils.

That left Geralt with only one option. The only thing the bard gave him was the order to kill a creature in the woods. The witcher had to keep his promise. He will likely come across Jaskier once again somewhere in the village. It’s better to do that after completing the quest, then he will have an excuse to approach the younger man. He will say he only wanted to report that the job was done and then use the situation to apologize for the fucking mountain.

And hopefully everything will go back to normal after that.

So he plunged into the forest at dusk, focused on looking for any traces of the supposed specter. The witcher was heading north, following directions given to him by Jaskier. The forest was strangely quiet, it seemed like all the animals were hiding. Geralt knew that it was a sign that some kind of a monster was indeed roaming somewhere in these woods.

The witcher reached for the potion and drank it with one go. Better safe than sorry, he thought.

After an hour or so of delving into the forest something caught his eyes. It was a rope hanging from one of the trees. A thick rope with a hangman's pent at the end. Without the hangman, though.

Geralt felt his whole body tensed. His sensitive senses listened to the sounds of the forest with intensity. The lack of the hangman on the end of the rope meant that there really could be a specter in here, most likely somewhere near. After all, a specter or a phantom was born out of the oppressed soul of someone who died a tragic death, usually by suicide.

As if on cue, something sprang from the tree with a great speed and jumped straight at Geralt. The witcher managed to jump away at the last moment and push the attacker away. He reached for the silver sword strapped on his back, but stopped halfway.

The specter looked like any other specter he had fought. It was consumed by decay, dried skin clung to visible bones here and there. The posthumous processes twisted the unfortunate man's body in bizarre ways. Empty sockets were visible in place of the eyes, and the last tufts of hair covered the otherwise bald skull. The hideous sight, really, but witchers were never bothered by that. What has caused the witcher’s reaction were red raggs hanging from the specter’s body.

Jaskier’s red raggs.

Geralt’s heart twisted painfully.

The hesitation costed him dearly. The specter recovered quickly and attacked Geralt once again. This time though, the witcher didn’t manage to make a dodge. The monster's body collided with Geralt's chest, making them fall together to the ground.

The strength of the fall took a breath out of the witcher. The specter pressed against him with all its might, trying to find a weak point in his armour. Thin fingers were scratching furiously, actually leaving bloody lines on Geralt's forearms. The monster's face was dangerously approaching the witcher's neck. Geralt knew the specter won’t hestitate to bite deeply. It acted on pure primal instincts, there was nothing of human left within it. It was probably starving. The witcher knew the bite will mean the end of the fight.

Geralt was always ready to die in the fight. He could let it go, for a moment he really wanted to. He was looking straight into the specter’s empty sockets with the painful knowledge that there were once the cornflower blue orbits in there. It was Jaskier who hanged himself on that rope. And the witcher wasn’t there to fucking stop him. Geralt deserved to die. He deserved to be torn apart by what was left of Jaskier, because it was all his fault.

Then one thought flashed in his mind. Jaskier paid him to kill him. Jaskier didn’t want to be that thing. If Geralt surrenders and let himself be killed, he will fail Jaskier. Maybe the witcher deserved death, maybe it would be rightful to die at the hand of the bard, but him being killed right now would doomed Jaskier to further suffering. Who knows how many years the bard would roam around these forests before other witcher runs into him? Geralt couldn’t let that happened.

The thought of Jaskier’s endless pain was unbearable.

The witcher gritted his teeth and gathered all of his strength, allowing the potion to took its full effect. Finally, he managed to free one hand. With an inhuman speed he moved it and hit the back of the specter's head. It wasn’t a perfect blow, but still managed to distract the monster slightly. The specter screeched and recoiled a little bit, loosening the pressure on the witcher.

Geralt grabbed the monster by its arm and threw it off of himself. Wasting no time, he rolled in the same direction, only to be faced with the monster already waiting for him. The specter jumped on him again and clutched the witcher's shoulders in a death grip. Geralt staggered but kept his balance. He used the weight of the monster's body hanging at him, leaned over and threw himself to the ground. The sudden movement surprised the specter. Using its confusion, the witcher pinned the monster down with the weight of his body. The specter writhed under him with great force, screaming shrilly.

The witcher was breathing hard, his heart was beating far too fast for a witcher. He dared to look more carefully on Jaskier. What he saw made him close his eyes and take a deep breath.

_It’s not Jaskier. It’s not Jaskier. It’s not Jaskier._ He repeated the sentence like a mantra. _It’s just another monster. Put it together, witcher!_

The internal struggle made him loosen up his grip once again. The specter's claws flew through the air and teared the witcher's cheek before the man managed to trap the monster's hand again. The blood started to drip onto the familiar red rags. Geralt roared, pining the specture harder. It was a roar of both rage and helplessness.

Geralt wanted to shake Jaskier, he wanted to scream at him for what he did. He wanted to beg him to come back. He wanted for it to turn out to be just a very cruel joke. He wanted for Jaskier to emerge from behind a tree, all healthy and well, bursting with laughter, saying „I wish you could see your face, Geralt!”.

He knew it won’t be the case, though. This mindless creature was all that was left of the bard. He won’t come across Jaskier in the village after this. He won’t have the possibility to apologize to the bard. All he could do was to put Jaskier out of his misery.

Geralt’s eyes were stangely wet. He blinked a few times. Something surely had to fall into them during the struggle.

The witcher shifted his weight, making the immobilized specter howl. Its jerking decreased, as if he knew what was coming next and subconsciously was waiting for it.

Gods, was this his punishment?

He reached for the silver sword, which was still pinned on his back. The blade made a sickening sound, sliding out of the scabbard. It hung in the air, waiting for its owner to make a final move.

The specter freezed. It opened its mouth in a silent scream.

Geralt braced himself. He will make it quick. And then he will bury with dignity what is left. He has never cared for monster’s remains, but this time was different. This time it was someone he knew and deeply cared for, even though he has never showed it openly.

The sword cut through the air.

At the same moment Geralt remembered something.


	3. A bird with a broken neck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we can continue with the actual timeline, I suggest to turn back in time a little bit. So here you have the retrospection of what happened after the infamous mountain. I hope you'll like it :)
> 
> „Kto miłości nie zna, ten żyje szczęśliwy,  
> I noc ma spokojną, i dzień nietęskliwy”  
> \- A. Mickiewicz „Dziady” cz. IV
> 
> (Who doesn’t know love, lives happily,  
> A night spends peacefully, a day not longingly)

_„If life could give me one blessing it would be to take you of my hands!”_

These cruel words were ringing in Jaskier’s ears all the way down from the mountain. The witcher has always been rude and nasty. He has never spared insults, malice and unpleasant criticism on Jaskier. Usually, the bard ignored it, putting the blame on the difficult character and habits of the witcher. It would be a lie to say these insults weren’t hurting Jaskier, but Geralt was also showing concern at times and in the younger man’s opinion it was enough to outweigh what was bad in their relation.

So why was it different this time?

Well, Jaskier supposed it was Geralt’s expression. Usually, when the witcher insulted him, his face was showing simple irritation and annoyance, but always with a hint of amusement. This carefully hidden positive tone was making Jaskier believe that Geralt actually didn’t mean all of these cruel words. That it was just a put up show of some sort, a part of their dynamics. Now, however, the bard was forced to re-examine his acquaintance with the witcher. He came up with the conclusion that he was only imagining the amusement on Geralt's face, lying to himself about something he so much wanted to have.

A friendship. A home. Someone who would appreciate him for who he really was. Only a litte bit, at least.

But Geralt’s face on the mountain was full of pure rage and disgust. The witcher clearly put in his words all the venom he could possibly have within himself. There was not a trace of amusement there. He spat at Jaskier as if the bard really was the worst thing that has ever happened to him.

The life the bard has built for himself bursted like a soap bubble.

Jaskier wasn’t angry. Maybe he was sad, but there were no tears flowing down his face. He got used to being rejected. He just hoped it will be different this time.

The bard kicked a small stone, which lied on his path. In fact, the man shuffled his feets along the ground, so it was a miracle he didn't fell down on his face yet.

It was late afternoon when he finally made it to clearing they have left Roach at. All members of the expedition had dispersed long ago, heading in directions, which were only known to them. Jaskier didn’t care. It was quiet and peaceful like that. The bard smiled sadly and stumbled over to the witcher’s horse. His feets were already hurting.

„Hi, girl”, he greeted her, patting her lightly on her neck. „Did you have a good time?”.

Roach made a huff.

„Yeah, I don’t like being left behind as well and I’m being left behind quite frequently”, he sighed. „At least you can be sure he will come back for you. You are useful to him”.

The horse smacked him with her nose.

„Right, I am not to feel sorry for myself when the conversation isn’t about me”, he nodded in agreement.

At first, Jaskier planned to come down to the clearing and wait there for Geralt. The walk from the top of the mountain to the place was long enough for the witcher to have a time to cool off. As it turned out though, it was also long enough for Jaskier to rethink the last twenty years of his life. The outcome was not positive.

He realised he really was just an obstacle. He didn’t do a single meaningful thing in the time he has spent with the witcher. He only disturbed the man and made it difficult for him to perform his tasks. The best thing the obstacle could do was to disappear and the bard was determinated to do at least that one thing right. He should get out of the witcher’s way. That’s why he gathered his things, said his quiet goodbyes to Roach and moved in the direction of the nearest village, ignoring his sore feets. It was getting late and Jaskier knew it was dangerous to travel after dusk, but he couldn’t risk the next encounter with Geralt. The bard wasn’t sure he would be able to leave if he saw the witcher again.

He would probably beg for forgiveness like a pitiful creature he is.

He snored. He could live away from Geralt, he reasoned. He could write songs about something else and somehow make a living out of them. He will think of something. Everything will be alright, he tried to cheer himself up.

Each passing hour was proving him wrong, though. Every now and then a new question was popping into his mind. What kind of life was awaiting him? Making for a living just to stay alive? Without any purpose? That was a truly sad vision.

He reached the village on early morning. Somehow, the fate spared him the meeting with a monster or some wild animal. He wasn’t so sure it was a good thing. If he got eaten, at least everything would be over. He was sick of being in his own head. He wanted the voices, which were saying him that he was worthless, hopeles and basically a waste, to be finally gone. He wanted to close his eyes and find himself in blessed nothingness.

Maybe such thoughts were caused by the lack of sleep? He was walking the whole night, after all. He surely wasn’t going to break down because of some emotionally underdeveloped witcher. It would be unreasonable. He was a talented man, who was able to make an excellent living for himself, thank you very much.

He didn’t even record the moment he ran straight into someone. The force of the collision took his breath away.

„I’m so sorry”, he gasped apologetically.

„You don’t have to be”, the man gave him a sympathetic smile. He was young, with wavy blond hair reaching to his chin and eyes of the color of the moss. His face was bright and flawless. He looked hypnotizing. Jaskier blinked a few times. „You don’t look so good. Is everything all right?”, the man asked.

„I’m just...”, he frowned, suddenly unable to gather his thoughts. „I had a long night”, he decided to go with a simple answer.

„Why don’t we go to my house?”, the man smiled, showing even white teeth. He had a beautiful smile. „I could give you something hot to drink. You look chilled”.

„Yeah... all right. That sounds great”, Jaskier instantly felt as if he was about to fall asleep. He followed the stranger mindlessly.

If someone asked him for the direction of how to get to that man’s house, Jaskier wouldn’t be able to give an answer. He didn’t even know when he found himself inside of wooden interior with a steaming mug in his hand. The bard had an impression that the young man was babbling the whole way here, but nothing of what he said has been saved by the bard’s head. Jaskier didn’t even catch his name and he could swear the man introduced himself at some point.

Was Geralt able to block Jaskier’s babbling like that?

The bard snored at that thought.

„So, what happened?”, the man slipped onto the chair next to him. His beutiful wide smile was unsettling.

„Got dumped”, Jaskier answered. His mind was telling him that short and undeveloped sentences are the witcher’s thing rather than the famous bard’s, but Jaskier still couldn’t manage to get anything longer out of himself. It was weird.

„That’s sad”, said the man, though there was nothing of the actual sympathy in his voice. „How does that make you feel?”, he tilted his head slightly, still smiling softly.

Jaskier was feeling odd, that’s for sure.

„Disappointed? Ruined, wrecked. Despairing. Angry, too”, he explained nonetheless.

„That’s a lot of different emotion”, the man said. „Wouldn’t you like to let them all go?”.

Jaskier laughed, he was on verge of tears now. The man’s questions brought the memories of the mountain back. He worked the whole night to convince himself that nothing out of ordinary happened back there and the man destroyed the effect within few seconds. Geralt rough voice echoed in Jaskier’s head again, with doubled force this time.

_„If life could give me one blessing it would be to take you of my hands!”_

„I know how to make them go away”, the man smiled again. „I could take them all away, if you’d let me”, his voice was delicate and sweet. And peaceful, like a lullaby.

Jaskier frowned. He felt dizzy.

„You see, I feed on emotion”, the man explained. „I felt yours, they were so strong. So, I decided to approach you. Usually, I prefer positive emotion, but I guess you take what you can get”, the moss-colored eyes stared at him intently. „Let me take them”.

„How... how will that work?”, Jaskier asked carefully.

The man’s eyebrows winded, as if he did not expect any questions.

„You will simply stop feeling like you do right now”, if it was possible, the look in the man’s eyes became even more intense. The bard started to felt uncomfortable under that gaze.

„And what will I feel?”, he was not giving up on getting answers. Geralt always said to be careful with magic and Jaskier was going to listen to the advice. Even though it was hard to think about the witcher at the moment. For some reason, it was hard to think about anything, really.

„You will feel free”, the man leaned over the bard, clearly losing his calmness. It was one more person to the list of the people Jaskier managed to irritate.

The bard's eyesight began to blur.

„Free”, he whispered.

„Yes”, the man confirmed. „At first it will be worse, then it will be better. And you will be free”, there was that smile again.

It was really a beautiful smile.

„Okay”, Jaskier agreed.

The man nodded in satisfaction, then stretched his arm. He stroked Jaskier's cheek gently. The bard’s cornflower blue eyes went wide. Something clicked in his mind and suddenly everything became so clear. He got up and started slowly walking towards door.

„Wait!”, the man comanded. He swung his long green cloak as he made a sudden movement, reaching for the crate in the corner. He took a long, rough rope out of it. „You’ll need it”, he handed it over to Jaskier.

The bard accepted it and left without a word. The man watched him, leaning against the doorframe, still smiling beautifully.

Jaskier directed to the forest. The rope glided on the ground, making a quiet disturbing sound. The bard felt numb and cold. He couldn’t really remember a reason for anything. He saw the angry yellow eyes in front of him, he heard whispers full of words of contempt and disgust. He knew they were about him, but they couldn’t affect him anymore. It was like a giant wall has separated him from them. It was freedom. He was free.

The man made sure of that. And Jaskier had to make sure it would stay that way, because the wall can crack. And then these words will get to him again. He couldn’t let that happen.

He looked around. It was a nice day. Probably around noon, judging by the position of the sun. The birds were singing and a little lizard had just run over the moss. Jaskier barely registered anything but the color of the moss. He liked that color, it was beautiful.

The bard kept walking. He still heard the birds. He was a bird once too. He sang and flew freely. Not anymore, though. Someone with yellow eyes broke his neck? He frowned.

A broken neck.

Jaskier chose a tree. It was a nice tree, branchy and green. Without thinking, he climbed onto the lowest bough. While belaying himself, he threw the rope over the branch above him. He tied a solid loop. He stuck his head into it and stood on the edge.

_Useless, an obstacle, unwanted, redundant, an inconvenience, a nuisance, pitiful, miserable, unhelpful..._ those were the whispers from behind the wall.

_„Trust me, you'll never feel like this again”,_ the man's voice echoed in his head.

_„Jaskier, it’s a trap! Do you always have to get yourself into trouble, you fool?!”,_ another voice shouted. It was rough and angry and familiar in some scary way.

He didn’t want to hear that tone in that voice ever again. He shivered. If he listens to the first one, he’ll be safe and free.

Jasier looked down. And jumped.

A bird with a broken neck, indeed.


	4. Lost to the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are back to the proper timeline. Enjoy :)
> 
> Kto jak zwierz pustyni szuka,  
> Jak pugacz po nocy lata,  
> Jak upiór do trumny puka,  
> Taki zgubiony dla świata.  
> \- A. Mickiewicz, „Dziady” cz. I
> 
> (Who like an animal looks for a desert,  
> Like an owl flies at night,  
> Like a specter knocks at the coffin,  
> So lost for the world)

It was dawn. The first rays of the sun broke through the treetops. They fell exactly on the place where the witcher was lying. Geralt had never felt such a relief at the sight of the sun before. Usually it was just an overgrown star, today it was a true salvation.

The witcher rolled over on his back, releasing the other body from his iron embrace. It already stopped moving some time ago, but Geralt had to be careful until the end.

He sighed deeply, letting sore muscles relax. He was really tired. For a short moment, he allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of being wrapped in warm golden rays of sunshine. It was a really long night. Full of helplessness and unbelievable pain. And Geralt didn’t mean only a physical pain, although the torn cheek and the deep wounds on his forearms burned mercilessly. The the mental pain was so much worse. Seeing Jaskier, usually the bright and cheerful man, in that mindless state was truly terrifying. The sight shocked the witcher to the core.

He could still see the empty sockets staring at him and the bared teeth grinning in a disgusting grimace. They were not covered with lips, because the creature no longer had them. There was practically no skin left on the skull. If not for the clothing, the witcher would have never recognized his friend in that specter.

Geralt moved his head to the side.

Jaskier was laying right next to him now. He was covered in the sunlight as well. He still looked terrible, but thankfully already a little more human. The pale skin began to grow over the ghostly bones, the skull was covered with disheveled brown hair again. The bard was starting to look more and more like the previous evening in the tavern. He should wake up soon.

Gerant stood up with an obvious effort and reached into the little sack he wore tied around his waist. This idea has popped into his mind once there wasn’t a cheerful bard to tend to his wounds after the fight. He took out a small bundle of bandages and began to loosely wrap them around his forearms. He grimaced in obvious annoyance when he failed to tie a proper knot once again. He didn't know how long he was waging a battle against the bandages before he heard a familiar voice.

„It hurts to look at your efforts”, it was weak and hoarse. „One would have thought you should know how to put on a dressing”.

Geralt turned and gave him a stern look. He wasn't going to take the bard's bait, he was very angry with him at the moment. The witcher coulnd’t comprehend how the younger man found himself in the situation, which was this bad.

„Jaskier”, he grunted in acknowledge.

„Geralt”, the bard retorted immediately. He was looking at him with a cautious and suspicious gaze. The witcher focused on something entirely different, though. It was the first time since the mountain when Jaskier used his name. It made a witcher's heart skip a little bit.

The bard slowly rose from the ground, he was having the obvious difficulty keeping his balance. He grimaced as he tried to shift his weight to his right leg. At night he had to badly fall on it. It wouldn't be the first time he had to endure the exploits of his nasty night form.

„I have a very important question to you, witcher”, the younger man pointed accusingly his finger at him. „Why am I still here?”.

„You came here yourself”, Geralt decided to play dumb.

Jaskier’s cornflower blue eyes widened in disbelief. Geralt was glad that they reappeared in the previously empty sockets, even if they were now surrounded with unhealthy black shadows.

„No. Oh, no, no, no”, he laughed darkly. „I paid you to do the job! We had a deal!”, he accused.

„That was before I learned who was the one you called a monster!”, the witcher spat. „You have hidden this vital information from me!”.

Jaskier threw his arms in the air in a dramatic gesture. Geralt would have smiled at the familiarity of it, if the circumstances were different.

„Why does it matter?!”, the bard shouted. „You never care about the story! If there is a monster, you kill a monster!”.

„There are no monsters here!”, the witcher argued.

„Really?”, Jaskier crossed his arms on his chest. „Where are your very obvious injuries coming from, then?”, he asked the rhetorical question.

Geralt muttered a curse.

„See”, the bard pointed out. „I attacked you, I could have killed you!”.

„You don’t even remember the fight, Jaskier”, the witcher rolled his eyes. „I had a plenty opportunities to chop your head off”.

„Then why didn’t you do it?”, the bard’s voice sounded so small now. It made Geralt send a concerned glance at him.

Jaskier was standing there, looking clearly lost. He was hugging himself firmly with his arms, as if he was afraid that he was about to fall apart. Which in normal circumstances would be possible. Judging by what Geralt saw during the night, the stage of decomposition of the bard’s body was already very advanced. Jaskier had to be dead for a pretty long time already. It was only a magic that was making him look somehow normal, though even now he looked like a fresh corpse.

„Please, Geralt”, he begged. „I can’t do it anymore. It’s been three years. I would do it myself. I tried, but it just doesn’t work. I did my penance, I swear”.

The witcher frowned. Why was Jaskier talking about the punishment? Did he thought that for some reason he deserved such fate?

Obviously, Geralt immediately answered his own question. The bard was a specter now. That meat two things. One, he comitted a suicide. That thought alone was making the witcher’s heart bleed in sorrow. Two, something had to bind him in this realm. Geralt knew that in most of cases in was guilt.

„I won’t kill you”, he announced with a conviction.

„Do you really hate me that much?”, Jaskier’s voice sounded as if he was about to start crying. Geralt opened his mouth, but the bard was faster. „I thought you only wanted me gone, not to suffer like that. I knowy you don’t care, but I paid you. Please, Geralt. Don’t be cruel. It’s just one swing of your sword”.

The witcher was at his side in the blink of an eye. He grabbed the rags that were once the bard's clothing and pulled him close.The yellow eyes were sending daggers at him.

„It’s not a simple swing of a sword!”, he roared, shaking the younger man violently. „Because it would be you at its end!”, he growled through clenched teeth. He didn’t know what words to use for Jaskier to understand, so he snarled and let the bard go.

„Put yourself togehter”, he orderd instead. „We have a long way ahead of us”, he informed.

„What?”, the bard blinked. Then his face showed the outraged expression. „I’m not going anywhere with you!”.

Geralt sighed. He didn’t want nor had the time for this quarrel. He ignored Jaskier and headed to the tree from which the rope was hanging. Geralt was disgusted with it, it took the bard’s life after all, but he really had no other choice right now.

After a moment he heard a loud gasp behind himself.

„Geralt, what are you doing?!”, Jaskier jumped to him, trying to stop him. The witcher only needed to reach out his hand to keep him at the distance. In this form, the bard was not a threat, only an annoyance, pretty much like a fly flying around.

„Making sure you’ll come with me”, Geralt answered, while working on the rope.

„It is my rope!”, the bard shouted.

„I know”, the witcher confirmed. „The rope is yours. You are bonded to it. Which means you’ll go where the rope is. And now the rope will be with me”, he explained.

Jaskier inhaled deeply.

„You can’t do that!”, he argued.

„Watch me”, Geralt challenged him.

Finally, the witcher untied the rope from the tree. It was a little bit difficult, since the bard was trying very hard to get it back. Geralt decided to tie it tightly around his waist. That way Jaskier won’t be able to steal it when the witcher won’t be looking.

With this task completed, he left the bard and headed in the direction of the village. He had to take Roach from the stable. After a moment, he heard the hurried steps.

„I hate you, you are the worst”, Jaskier informed him when he leveled with the witcher. Geralt smirked, content with how he dealt with the situation.

They walked in silence for a while.

„Am I your mascot now, or what?”, the bard asked finally. „Are you going to have fun watching me change every night?”.

Geralt gave him an offended and hurt look. Didn’t Jaskier knew that seeing him in despair was the last thing the witcher wished to see? He wanted to see the bard jumping around the tavern, singing his ridiculous catchy songs to the drunken audience, winking at them and sending them flirtatious smiles. If he could, he would gladly erase from his memory the events of this night. Or better yet, set back time by three years.

„No, we are going to find a solution to your situation”, he answered.

„There is a solution!”, Jaskier pointed out. „It’s strapped to your back”.

Geralt growled warningly. They were past that conversation already. Jaskier huffed, but fell silent. With each passing second the lack of the babbling was becoming more disturbing than the witcher ever suspected, so he decided to speak himself.

„My brother once told me about the specter, which came back to life”, he announced.

The bard looked surprised.

„You have a brother?”.

Geralt rolled his eyes. Of course, that was the information Jaskeir chose to focus on. Not that the other part of the sentence contained the information, which was suggesting that there might be hope for him yet.

„Another witcher from my school”, he explained. „We all call each other brothers. We were trained together”.

Jaskier nodded, making a quiet unintelligible sound.

„Are we going to see him?”, the bard asked.

The witcher took a deep breath, bracing himself for Jaskier’s outburst.

„No, I don’t know where he is right now”, he said. „We are going to see Yennefer”.

As he expected, the bard stopped in his tracks outburtly.

„There is no way in hell!”, he shouted. Geralt grimaced at the high-pitched tone.

„Don’t start again”, the witcher rolled his eyes. „If anyone knows how to undo this”, he gestured on Jaskier’s form. „It’s her”.

They stared hostile at each other for a moment. Geralt silently dared the other to raise the voice at him. He will drag the stupid bard if he has to. Although, secured by the rope, the witcher knew Jaskier had no choice. He will have to follow him. From the bard’s quick glance at Geralt’s waist, the witcher knew Jaskier realised that was well. All the bard could do was to make the trip unpleasant with his comments and general stubbornness. Geralt waited patiently for his decision.

„Fine!”, finally Jaskier threw his hands in the air. „Let’s go to your witch!”.

Geralt smirked and moved forward. It was good to have the overdramatic bard at his side again. Even though said bard was in serious need of a rescue, again. The witcher didn’t know if Jaskier knew that, but he was adamant to find a way to bring the bard back to normal, no matter the cost.

He sighed. It seemed the assassins hired by four kings will have to wait a little longer. Geralt had the other priority at the moment. Ciri was safely stashed in Kaer Morhen anyway. He knew she will be inconsolable that she would have to hide in the keep longer. Geralt promised her to take her on a trip once the problem with murderers was solved. He also knew that she will forgive him the moment she hears it was caused by the need to save his companion.

„We are making a stop at the village”, Geralt announced. „We have to collect Roach and buy a decent chain”.

„A chain?”, Jaskier sent him surprised look.

„It’s a long road”, the witcher shrugged. „I’m not going to keep your worse side pinned to the ground every night”.

The bard opened his mouth. Then closed it.

„Yeah, it is... a good idea, I guess”, he finally agreed.

After a moment the bard started humming an annoying tune under his breath. Geralt knew the bard chose this particular melody with premeditation.

„I might think of buying a gag of some sort too”, the witcher stated.

He had to stop himself from making a laugh at the indignant expression of Jaskier’s face. Geralt had to admit that he has missed it a lot.


	5. Like the old times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> „I mam je, mam je, mam - tych skrzydeł dwoje;  
> Wystarczą:- od zachodu na wschód je rozszerzę,  
> Lewym o przeszłość, prawym o przyszłość uderzę.  
> I dojdę po promieniach uczucia - do Ciebie!”  
> \- A. Mickiewicz, „Dziady” cz. III. Wielka Improwizacja.
> 
> (And I have them, I have – those two wings;  
> They are enough: - I will spread them from west to east,  
> The past with the left one, the future with the right I will hit.  
> And I will walk on the flames of feeling – to you!)

It was easy for both of them to simply fall into the charade, to play their parts in a spectacle of some sort, pretending their reunion wasn’t forced by truly terrible circumstances and that there wasn’t any grudges between them.

Jaskier pretended that he didn’t mind being dragged by Geralt on the journey he for once in his life did not want to take part in. He tried not to show that the witcher’s refusal to cut his throat open actualy deeply hurt him, taking away his hope for a quick end of torment. So he joked around and hummend light tunes under his nose to lull himself into believing that it was just like all those years ago. That it was just another exciting adventure of the White Wolf and his bard, even though there were no bards in here. And there could never be, not anymore.

Geralt pretended as well. Even though he could clearly feel the tension in the air. He appreciated each of Jaskier’s stupid jokes and annoying sounds, it allowed him not to think of what was ahead of them. For the first time in his long life, the witcher wanted to simply live in the moment. To forget all problems and focus on small things that were making him content. He only wanted to enjoy his time with Jaskier. The thought of the future was filling Geralt with paralyzing terror, becasue it could take all of those small good things away from him.

It could be the future without Jaskier in it.

The witcher was ready for the future without the bard in his life. After all, he foretold himself such a future at the top of a mountain. But that was meant to be the future with Jaskier being sound and safe somewhere else, living peacefully up to the old age. Now he might have to end up with the future where he has to live with the fact that he had caused his friend’s horrid demise.

Geralt really didn’t want to deepen that thought. So he was thankful that the bard was distracting him with his usual overdramatic self. He was grateful even though he knew distracting the witcher was just a side effect of Jaskier distracting himself.

They both felt clearly uncomfortable, but neither of them did anything to change that. They did not mention the mountain. They did not mention the bard’s suicide nor the way they were going to deal with an obvious problem they had.

If you don't know what to do, set yourself small tasks. Task number one, find Yennefer.

So they were simply walking all day towards the sorceress's last whereabouts, making small talks and throwing comments on unimportant matters. Geralt informed Jaskier that he had found and took care of the Child Surprise. Jaskier expressed his satisfaction and asked what the girl turned out to be like. The witcher told him how he trained her in Kaer Morhen, trying to weave as many details as he could. Then Jaskier started to complain about Geralt’s general lack of capacity of creating comparisons and metaphors that would enrich the story. The witcher didn’t understand a single word out of it, but grunted in acknowledge anyway. Jaskier laughed and Geralt rolled his eyes at him.

It was easy and nice. It felt almost normal.

It lasted only until the late evening. That was when Geralt had to finally face the cruel reality. The sun was starting to go down and they stoped on the edge of some forest to make a camp. Jaskier hoped down form Roach. Geralt has pulled him onto his horse some time ealier, when he noticed the bard was limping on one leg. The witcher tried to hide his hurt expression when Jaskier showed a sincere surprise at the proposal of riding on Roach. It was a telling sign that Geralt had never really directly indicated his concern about the bard’s wellbeing. Well, at least clearly not in a way that would make Jaskier see it. 

The bard looked up at the sky and then turned towards the witcher with a slight grimace on his face.

„The chain, Geralt”, he reminded him.

The witcher’s body tensed. It was so easy to be overcome by oblivion. Geralt sighed and got off the horse as well, reaching for the saddlebags.

„Hurry”, the bard hastened him, apparently concerned.

Geralt took out a long thick chain. He spent a considerable sum on it, but didn’t regret it. He wanted to make sure that at the same time it could withstand the force of the specter and not hurt it too much. Hurting the creature meant hurting Jaskier, after all. It was the simple iron chain, but the witcher told the blacksmith to put a thin silver layer on it. It should weaken the creature without causing it a great pain.

He put it down and looked into the other saddlebag. He rummaged in it for a while and then pulled out the soft looking black shirt with long sleeves.

„Put it on”, he handed it over to Jaskier. Seing the bard’s wide eyes, he continued. „Your... clothes have holes. The chain has silver on it. If it touches your skin directly, it will probably burn you, even though it’s only a thin layer. I prefer not to check if that happens, so put it on”, he insisted.

Jaskier nodded and accepted the shirt without the further questions, like why Geralt handed him what seemed to be one of his finest and most comfortable clothes. The bard turned and took off the remains of the red doublet. Geralt gritted his teeth at the sight of Jaskier’s back. The younger man was frighteningly skinny, his bones were looking like they were going to pierce right through the deadly white skin. When the shirt was putted on it wasn’t much better, becasue Jaskier looked like he was about to drown in it.

„Sit under that tree”, the witcher pointed out, trying to keep his voice steady.

Jaskier followed the order. Geralt crouched next to him and started to wrap him in the chain, trying to do it in such a way as not to hurt him.

„Too loose, Geralt. I’ll break through it”, the younger man warned. „Tie it tighter”, he instructed him.

The witcher closed his eyes and sighed in clear anguish, but carried out the bard’s wish. Once Jaskier was firmly attached to the tree, he tried to distract himself with lighting a fire and preparing a quick snack. It was done much to soon and the witcher was forced to sit down and look at Jaskier.

The man’s head was slightly raised up, his eyes locked on vanishing rays of the sun. Even from this distance, the witcher could see the primal fear in Jaskier's eyes. It was clear that the bard was trying to keep tears at bay. Geralt wanted to howl, knowing that Jaskier was going through that every night for at three years. This morning the witcher tried to get from the bard more information about the circumstances of his death, but the bard was silent as if charmed. Geralt knew though, that Jaskier, not wanting to hurt anyone, was moving away from people at night, roaming around the place his rope was hanging at. Around the place he was bonded to always return to eventually. Which meant he was going through all of that completely alone.

„Jaskier”, he spoke, trying to get his attention. „I’ll be here all night”, he tried to reassure him.

„Okay”, the younger man whispered.

They fell silent. The forest began to darken. At one point, Jaskier was shaken by a sudden strong shiver. Geralt saw that the bard bit his lip hard while fighting with himself, but clearly lost that battle. A moment later the agonizing scream got out of his throat. It was so painful and so human, that at first Geralt wanted to jump up and run to somehow help him. Moments later, however, the human sound began to turn into a monster's howl. It was the worst thing Geralt heard in his entire life.

What he saw was probably much worse, though. Jaskier was convulsing. His upper body was firmly restricted by the chain, but legs were kicking, making deep grooves in the ground. Geralt watched in horror as the bard’s hair was slowly disappearing from the skull together with large patches of skin. He saw muscles getting rotten, revealing white bones. It was as if the bard's body was decomposing at an accelerated pace.

The witcher saw also the exact moment Jaskier lost consciousness. His cornflower blue eyes became dull only few seconds before they completely fell apart, leaving the empty sockets. Geralt knew that he was left with a mindless monster now.

He also knew that this sight will haunt him in his nightmares for the rest of his life.

The whole transformation lasted a few minutes. In the end, all that was left out of Jaskier was the skeleton plastered with cadaverous greenish parts of skin. It struggled hard, baring his rotten teeth at the witcher, clearly irritated by the chain. It seemed though, that it won’t be able to break it. Which was a good thing, because Geralt most likely wouldn’t be able to fight it right now.

The witcher felt his limbs grew limp. He was shaking slightly. He took a deep breath and hid his face in his hands. How the hell was he supposed to deal with that?

What will he do if Yennefer won’t find a solution? What will he do if his back up plan with searching for Eskel won’t work either? What will he do if that story with reversing a specter turns out to be an ordinary fairy tale?

He realized he really was causing Jaskier the extra suffering, only because he fancied to find the solution which suited him. When he took Jaskier’s rope, forcing the bard to follow him, he didn’t know that the transformation looked like that. That it was this bad. How many more nights Jaskier will have to go through that before they reach Yennefer?

Wouldn’t it be a mercy to end Jaskier’s suffering right here and right now? He felt as if the blade on his back was burning through his armor now. One swing with it and Jaskier would be at peace.

But Geralt simply couldn’t do that. He was weak and he was a coward. He couldn’t imagine the world without the bard. Without his stupid songs and a bright smile. Sure, he lived three years without him, but then he thought Jaskier was somewhere out there, so it was possible to meet him again. If he uses his sword, it will be a final.

That’s why he was so desperately clinging to that poor Eskel’s story. It was pathetic and selfish, but he had to try everything to save Jaskier. To save him in a way, which would also keep the bard at his side. Or at least, which would keep Jaskier in this world, since Geralt doubt the man will want to so much as to look at him when it ends. If it ends with him being saved, that is.

Because if the story turns out to be false, he will have to kill Jaskier. He had to slowly get used to that idea. It would destroy him, but he couldn’t just leave the bard in this state. If there was no other salvation, Geralt will use his sword. But only then.

The witcher rised his face and rubbed his yellow eyes. They were wet. Something must have fallen into them again. After all, witchers don’t cry.

The specter was still screaming indignantly, trying to slip out of the captive. Geralt was ignoring it. He got up and walked as close to it as was possible without angering it any further. Then, he lied down right next to it.

„I’ll figure it out, Jaskier, I promise”, he whispered.

He lied there for the rest of the night, looking at the stars above. The silence was broken only by the groans and growls of the furious specter. After a few hours, they began to fade away, and finally were completely silenced. When the first rays of the sun fell on the undergrowth, the witcher knew that the bones were beginning to overgrown with flesh again. He didn’t look, he simply waited patiently.

During the night he came up with one more conclusion. If it was going to end up with him killing Jaskier, the bard needed to know how much Geralt valued their friendship. He didn’t know how to express that just yet, but settled his mind on working on it.

„Good morning”, he heard Jaskier’s hoarsh voice.

Geralt took a deep shaken breath. He grunted to let the bard know that he heard him, but made no movement. He still stared at the sky as if he waited for gods to come down from there and fix everything.

„Can you untie me now, please?”, Jaskier requested after a while.

Geralt made an affirmative sound and slowly got up. His eyes immediately locked with the bard’s. The witcher was surprised by their intense color every single time he was looking at them. He silently wished to be able to see them without the dark shadows around them again.

After a while the chain fell and the bard stretched, clearly stiffened. There was that uncomfortable silence in the air again.

„We should waste no time”, Geralt tried to break it.

Jaskier only nodded. He reached to pull off Geralt’s shirt.

„Keep it”, the witcher stopped him.

The bard opened his mouth to protest, but the strange look on Geralt’s face made him close them again. The witcher quickly gathered their things and gestured for Jaskier to jump on Roach. Then he settled himself in front of the bard, commanding him to hold on tight to him.

„Do you know I fought with a siren once?”, he offerd, trying to distract both Jaskier and himself. The bard hummed, indicating for the witcher to continue telling him the story. A moment later Geralt felt the bard rest his forehead comfortably on his back. He smiled sadly, with fondness.

The pace Geralt imposed on Roach was suspiciously fast.


	6. The time of confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part of the retrospection, post "jumping off the tree" events through Jaskier's eyes. Lot of angst, I guess.
> 
> „Samotność — cóż po ludziach, czym śpiewak dla ludzi?  
> Gdzie człowiek, co z mej pieśni całą myśl wysłucha,  
> Obejmie okiem wszystkie promienie jej ducha?  
> Nieszczęsny, kto dla ludzi głos i język trudzi”  
> \- A. Mickiewicz, „Dziady cz. III. Wielka Improwizacja.
> 
> (The loneliness – what of people, what is a singer for people?  
> Where is the person, who will hear out the whole thought of my song,  
> Take a look on all rays of its spirit?  
> Unhappy is the one who strains the voice and tongue for people)

Jaskier didn’t know how many times he was regaining and losing consciousness before he finally set himself free. He stopped counting after waking up in panic for the twenteeth time in a row. The panic was obviously the result of the sudden feeling of suffocation, caused by a rope tightening on his windpipe. Jaskier’s body was reacting on its own every simgle time. His hands were travelling up, trying to loosen the loop around his neck with desperate, panic-filled movements. His legs were kicking the air wildly in a hopeless attempt to find some support. It was making him tire much faster, as well as was causing the rope to tighten even harder. Dark spots were dancing on the edge of his vision already after a minute of such a struggle. His body was becoming heavy and limp then. Yet, he was always managing to take one last small gulp of the air, before losing himself to the darkness.

And then he was waking up again. And again. And again.

At some point, Jaskier became convinced that he must be in hell and that had to be his eternal punishment. It couldn’t be only an awful nightmare. People were waking up from them. He was not. He was stuck in an endless loop.

He wanted to stop fighting, to let himself stay in the darkness forever. His body didn’t listen to him though. The primal instincts of surviving were taking their advantage over his mind, even though all attempts to break free seemed doomed to fail.

That was primarly why Jaskier was hugely dumbfounded when at some point his neck actually slipped out of the grip. His starled reaction certainly wasn't caused by the fact that the bard fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes. He would never admit that.

Jakskier stared in disbelief at the rope hanging from the tree above him. It swayed slightly, seeming ghastly. The bard’s hands were unknowingly massaging the livid mark on his neck. He was taking greedy deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. Jaskier’s mind was blank. He couldn’t understand what has just happened.

The memories started to come back after a while, really slowly. At first there were only short flashes. He saw a very angry man with white hair and yellow eyes. Then fragments of the road in front of him. The vision of the man with an incredibly beautiful smile. The rope being thrown over the branch. Jumping down.

He really did that, didn’t he?

But how did he come to be here, then? Shouldn’t he be... more dead? It didn’t make any sense.

He lied under that tree for what felt like the eternity, trying to explain to himself all recent events. The more he thought about them, the more confused he was. It felt like the puzzle was missing important pieces. The decision to jump seemed to be made by someone else, with a complete disregard of Jaskier’s free will. He wanted to live, after all. There were so many things to see and experience in the world! It seemed very unlikely that he could have just given up on that.

The bard didn’t even realise when the sun started to hide behind the treetops. He didn’t connect that fact with a sudden overwhelming pain he felt. A piercing scream echoed in otherwise quiet forest. Strong convulsion threw Jaskier backwards. He started shaking. He felt as if his whole body suddenly burst into flames. Then the burning turned into feeling like someone was peeling his skin off. Jaskier began to howl. The sound was expressing incredible pain, terror and confusion at once. The bard looked down at his hands. His eyes went wide when he saw them beginning to rot and fall apart.

It had to be hallucinations caused by pain, there was no other option.

Jaskier’s last conscious thought was that he prefered the version of hell where he has been suffocating in the infinite loop so much more.

When he woke up again he was laying face down in the dirt. He groaned and pulled himself up. He waited for the next wave of pain in suspence. When he didn’t feel anything for a while, he dared to slowly stand up. He saw that it was already dawn. He had to pass out for the whole night. Maybe what he saw before losing the consciousness really was only an awful nightmare. He hoped so.

Jaskier grimaced suddenly. He felt something in his mouth, pressed in between his teeth. He reached to take it out. He turned the strange object in his fingers with a great interest and then his eyes winded in horror. The bard wished he didn’t look at it, after all. He had a little bloody piece of meat covered with fur in his hand. A gag reflex shook him. He emptied his stomach only to find that it was filled with blood and raw meat.

He was in shock. He completely didn’t know what was happening to him and what it all meant. He felt lost. The fact that there was no one to reach out for help was making him feel even worse. Because by now Jaskier remembered about Geralt and his harsh words. The bard was nothing else but a source of his problems. There was no way Jaskier was throwing this at him, whatever this was and wherever Geralt was right now.

The analytical thinking was always the key. He will come to it like on the thread to the ball. Maybe it was all just one time thing anyway. There was no need to panic yet, he tried to convince himself.

He decided to come back to the village. If he won’t get any answers there, maybe he will at least find his lute. It seemed like Jaskier had left it somewhere, which was strange, because he never leaves his precious instrument behind.

The way to the village was long enough for doubts to prevail over the fake positive mood, though. Jaskier started to slowly realise that the bloody meat in his mouth and the sight of his disintegrating hands couldn’t be just a creation of his imagination.

Something has happened to him. Something horrible.

He got the next clue proving him right after he finally reached the inn he has remembered from before the dragon hunt. He decided to come in and think about the mystery while eating some steaming warm food. He was incredibly hungry after the hours of walking. It felt as if his stomach was eating itself. He never felt this kind of hunger before, not even when they had to share rations with Geralt for days due to the lack of earnings. He explained it to himself, however, with the stress his body reacted with to the incomprehensible events of the previous night.

The real surprise came when he sank his teeth into the dish. He felt no taste of it. He couldn’t tell if the innkeeper oversalted it or if he didn’t use spices at all. Jaskier felt as if he was chewing the raw soil. Half panicked, he ordered some ale. It had the same affect. What was worse, the hunger didn’t lighten in the slightest after he forced the whole dish into himself.

Was he cursed? He did remember meeting the man with a beautiful smile before all of that happened. Jaskier decided he has to find him and make him undo whatever he has done. The bard spent quite some time trying to recall the way to the man’s house. Everything was covered by the fogg, though. At the end he started to wander the village in hope of running into something familiar, which would help him in his search.

He questioned the peasants he encountered about the blond man with unsetteling smile, possibly knowledgeable in the field of magic. Each of them swore that there was no such person in the village. Jaskier didn’t believe them. The man had house, which meant he couldn’t be a traveler. So the bard searched eagerly, knocking door to door.

That was when the struck of pain found him again. In some dirty alley in between some poor houses. He was sure his wild scream alarmed all men in the village and that they will come out with pitchforks any moment now. Rolling in pain and stumbling over his own legs, Jaskier raced towards the forest. He bit his lips hard to suppress the roar of pain. The liquid filled his mouth and this time the bard was able to feel a tasted of it. The taste of blood. His stomach shrank painfully and suddenly Jaskier realised he wanted more of that taste.

It was a truly terrifying thought. That and the memory of the bloody piece of meant in his mouth made him run even faster. He couldn’t hurt anyone. He just couldn’t.

Jaskier didn’t remember if he had managed to reach the tree line before he collapsed.

He set his mind in the morning. He needed help. If he couldn’t find that strange man, he needed to find another sorcerer. Or anyone really, who would be able to reverse whatever has been done to him. Jaksier went out on the nearest path and began to walk in the direction he knew the small town was situated. They should have some kind of a healer there.

Jaskier was tired, dirty and despairing.

A part of him wanted for Geralt to be here. The bard knew the witcher would have cursed him himself for his boundless stupidity, but then felt obligated to help him anyway. Geralt might have hated him, but he was a good person. He wouldn’t leave Jaskier in that state. Probably.

On the other hand, Jaskier didn’t wish to see the anger and pure hatred on Geralt’s face ever again. One time on the mountain top was enough. Maybe it was a good thing the witcher wasn’t here with him after all. Jaskier was perfectly capable of dealing with his problems himself.

As if on cue, the bard suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. The new problem appeared out of nowhere. Jaskier felt like he just hit a glass wall. He tried to move his feet forward, but couldn’t even lift it up. The weird voice inside his head told him that he couldn't go away, that he had to go back and watch over something. He didn’t know what that something was, though. Nevertheless, he allowed his legs to turn back and drift him in an unknown direction.

He ended by the rope hanging from the tree again.

He stared at it. The blurred images of him accepting the rope from the strange man flashed in front of his eyes. Of him tying the rope on that tree. Of him jumping off the branch.

A loud crack.

Jaskier closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He wanted to cry, but it seemed impossible. Everything finally fell on its place in his mind. He distinctly recalled the stories about the damned souls bonded to their disintegrating bodies in the world of living for their sins. The bard realized that he had committed a mortal sin. He comitted a suicide to escape his feelings, so now he was sentenced to live endlessly without the hope of ever resting in peace.

He started to panic. He wanted nothing more than to be at peace. The bard jumped up at tree to untie the rope. He wanted to destroy it. The invisible force threw him back, though. The blow took his breath away. Jaskier charged at the tree once again, but the effect was the same.

He quickly learned that he had to be within the strange range created by the rope, but was unable to touch it directly. During the next few days tried to convince some men from the village to help him take the thing off of the tree. Hearing about the mysterious rope in the middle of the forest, people reacted with fear, sending a silent prayer to Melitele, and strongly refused to approach such a place.

After days of pleading, followed by nightes truly out of the worst nightmares, Jaskier changed his tactics. He didn’t want to reverse the curse anymore. He simply wanted to stay dead. He undertook several agricultural jobs here and there, earning enough money to buy a small silver dagger. He remembered Geralt’s word about silver being able to kill monsters. The bard happily noted that the metal was indeed burning his skin.

Jaskier didn’t even make any kind of preparations. He simply went to the damned rope, took a deep breath and strike himself full force with the dagger in the heart. He watched the blood flowing from the wound with pure fascination.

Dying of a broken heart seemed very fitting and a very poetic. If he could, he would write the most beautiful ballad out of it. A song about a simple bard, who’s the biggest dream was to be accepted and loved by someone. About a bard who thought he finally found that someone and whose conviction was brutally destroyed on the top of the rocky mountain.

Jaskier closed his eyes, imagining Geralt's golden burning eyes. He wanted that vision to be his last.

The bard couldn’t decide if he was more terrified or distraught with fact that he did not die due to the hole in his chest. The blood soaked his red doublet, making it even redder, but then the wound healed. It took only a few minutes. Jaskier didn’t even feel the blood loss.

So he tried again. And again. Until he was sobbing tearlessly on the moss. The moss was a color of someone’s eyes. Jaskier curled up, clearly giving up, and waited for what had to come with the sunset.

Later he rationalised that not being able to kill himself was probably the part of the punishment. It wouldn’t make sense if he could end the tournment himself. He clearly needed to be killed by someone else.

So the next afternoon he provoked a fight in the inn. Taking advantage of the general chaos, he made sure his silver dagger landed within some drunk man’s reach. Then he insulted him and all of his ancestors back to the third generation. It get the reaction he was hoping for. The man grabbed the dagger and threw himself at the bard. Jaskier didn’t even try to avoid the blow. He let the the blade dipped into his belly to the hilt.

It was a good thing that no one paid any attention to him and that his attacker lost consciousness a moment later as a result of having his head hit with a glass bottle, because Jaskier would certainly have a hard time explaining why he was alive and why the wound in his belly simply disappeard.

He stopped trying to get himself killed after that. Long hours, which he spent in the corner of the tavern recreating all Geralt's meetings with the monsters led him to one conclusion. The witcher fought monsters when they looked like monsters. Jaskier looked pretty normal during the days and didn’t have any monstrous tendencies then.

Which probably meant that someone had to hit him with a silver dagger duting the night.

But during the night he was dangerous. He could really kill someone, literally torn that someone apart. He woke up next to the disrupted animal remains enough times by now to have no doubts about that. There was a reason why he was hiding deep in the woods every evening. He would never forgive himself if an innocent person was hurt by him. It would destroy that thin thread of sanity he still had left.

He couldn’t risk anyone’s life just to free himself.

So he continued to exist like that. Half dead, half alive. Drowning his sorrows in tasteless beer. Distracting himself with simple jobs he was able to get in the village. He even got a notebook and tried to write some poetry. He quickly threw it away, though. Jaskier couldn’t create anything that wasn’t connected to his suffering and he really didn’t want to dwell on that more that he already did. There were few people who tried to talk to him frequently, maybe even had intention to become his friends. Jaskier pushed them all away. His conviction that he didn’t deserve friends was one thing, but what was more important was that the bard was simply afraid of those people following him into the woods one night. He wanted to prevent that. He wanted to keep these people safe.

Months were passing by, then years. Jaskier was becoming more and more numb, unaffected by his own suffering. It was true that people at some point could get used to any circumstances, even the most horrible ones. Jaskier was proof of that. He didn’t think about anything anymore. He began to take his nocturnal transformation for something obvious. He existed in a strange suspension.

Until one afternoon the white-haird witcher entered the tavern.

Jaskier needed only a very short internal battle to make a decision.


	7. The truth to accept

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> „Kto w młodości pieśń żałoby  
> Raz zanucił, wiecznie nuci;  
> Kto młody odwiedza groby,  
> Już nigdy na świat nie wróci.”  
> \- A. Mickiewicz, „Dziady” cz.III. Widowisko.
> 
> (Who in youth the mourning song  
> Once hummed, is humming forever;  
> Who while young visits graves,  
> Won’t ever come back to the world.)

Their journey lasted a week already. Geralt has been on the verge of physical and mental exhaustion. He barely slept, sharing the pain with his friend. He was telling Jaskier that he doesn’t sleep to make sure the specter won’t break free from the chains at night. The younger man accepted this answer without questioning it, he only insisted for Geralt to try to at least meditate a little bit. The bard supported his statement with fear that one day the monster will get out and the witcher will be too exhausted to defeat it. With him killed, there will be no one else to help Jaskier, so Geralt fully understood the bard’s concern.

Little did he know that this wasn’t exactly what Jaskier was afraid of.

The bard didn’t seem much affected by the situation. It was upsetting Geralt at first, but then he realized that the bard had years to get use to what was happening to him. Jaskier saw himself turning into the rotten corpse hundred of times already, it was only new to the witcher. The bard adapted, stopped asking questions that had no answers and simply accepted the cruel fate. Geralt didn’t think he could ever be at peace with the sight of the bard convulsing in that unimaginable pain, though.

They stopped for another night. It was a little ealier than usual. Geralt knew that if they hurried, they would have reached Yennefer by the time Jaskier turns into the mindless creature again, but he didn’t want to expose the sorceresses to that sight without prior preparation. He knew Yennefer was tough and would have probably recovered quickly, if she was bothered by it at all, but the witcher wanted to talk to her calmly, which wouldn’t be possibly with a screeching skeleton by his side.

So here they were, having probably around three hours before the sunset. Jaskier decided to use them by helping to set up the camp. Geralt tried to stop him, saying he was perfectly fine with doing everything by himself and that the bard should simply rest. Jaskier's grimace told him he made a mistake of some sort. The bard's mood clearly deteriorated. The younger man started to mutter something under his nose, that Geralt even with his witcher hearing couldn’t make sense of, and then went to gather some wood for the fire anyway. The witcher let him go.

„We should get to Yennefer tomorrow before the noon”, Geralt informed when Jaskier got back.

„Fantatic”, the other huffed, throwing collected sticks to the ground. „You’ll talk to the witch, have your mind finally settled the proper way and then maybe you’ll agree to give me that one favor I have asked of you. And if you not, then I guess Yennefer will gladly do it herself”.

The witcher growled. How was he supposed to repair their relation if Jaskier was constantly acting this way? Throughout the last week, during the travels, the bard listened attentively to the stories Geralt was telling him, sometimes was even showing some activity by questioning him about details. The witcher was catching the bait and even began to colorize some facts, all to please the other man. That kind of Jaskier’s behavior was what was making the witcher’s hope for having the serious conversation with him growing bigger. He thought they will sit one evening and explain all grudges that were between them. Geralt waited for any sign that Jaskier was ready for such conversation. But the younger man's moods were changing faster than Geralt was able to keep up with. It seemed that each evening the bard was distansing himself from the witcher, clearly not wanting his presence anywhere near him. 

The witcher understood that. He hurt Jaskier deeply. But there was a big possibility that they were running out of time and Geralt didn’t want their story to end like this. Yet, Geralt couldn’t find a proper way to signal to Jaskier the need he felt. He didn’t know how to express it. It was making him anxious and a little bit angry too. The bard always seemed to know what was inside of Geralt’s head. The witcher rarely had to make any effort to communicate him how he felt. Why was it different this time? Or maybe it wasn’t different, maybe Jaskier simply decided to ignore the witcher’s need.

„I only want what is best for you”, he grunted.

„If that was true, I would be six feets under already”, the bard pointed out, shrugging slightly.

„I can’t kill you until I know for sure that there is no other option”, Geralt said through gritted teeth.

„Yeah, your curiousity must be satisfied”, Jaskier mocked him, rolling his eyes at him.

„That’s not...”, the witcher didn’t get to finish though, because Jaskier suddenly curled up in pain. The witcher cursed loudly and threw himsef to the saddlebags to find the chain. A week of travelling together was clearly enough to to make them both less vigilant. Today neither of them payed any attention to the setting sun.

Once the chain was in the witcher’s hand, he run in full speed to Jaskier. The younger man was already in such a great pain that he didn’t hear any of Geralt’s orders. At the end, the witcher had to use force to pin the struggling bard to the tree and throw the chain around him. It caused him getting a few hard kicks and some new scratches on his face. He barely managed to secure the bard before his body degraded. The witcher didn’t know if it was the curse’s doing, but Jaskier was strong. After the struggle Geralt needed to support himself against the tree, too.

So there went Geralt’s hope of having an open and honest conservation with Jaskier.

He sighed, looking at the screaming specter. He hoped that tonight was the last time he was seeing that thing. He hated it. He prayed that by some miracle tomorrow night he will be sitting in Yennefer’s kitchen and drinking her expensive wine together with completely healty and joyful bard. The drunk Jaskier would probably start to compose some stupid and very annoying rhyme, just to laugh at Geralt's pained expression. The witcher wholeheartedly yearned for that.

The next morning he did not dare to start the conversation, either. Jaskier was in even more awful mood, which was probably caused by both recovering from another hard night and the impending prospect of meeting with his least favorite sorceress. So they just headed forward.

Yennefer has been chasing people who threatened Ciri’s safety on her own. She left Kaer Morhen few months before Geralt did, informing him where he could find her if he ever needed help with the princess. The problem he currently had was obviously of the other nature, but risking the sorceress's wrath was worth it.

The witcher didn’t have any problems with locating the inconspicuous cabin in the middle of nowhere. It was a simple wooden building, though Geralt had no doubts it looked like a queen’s palace inside. Yennefer was always enjoying the finest things in life, pretty much like Jaskier, though the witcher suspected the two of them would never admit having anything in common.

„We are here”, he announced, hoping down from Roach.

Jaskier only made an unidentified sound and jumped off the horse as well, ignoring the witcher’s hand that was extended in a helping gesture.

Geralt could see that his companion was nervous. The witcher knew that even though Jaskier denied it, somewhere deep he probably hoped for a solution that included no necessity of using the silver sword too. The truth was that the witcher didn’t manage to spot that hope in the younger man, but he had a rational explanation for that. Jaskier simply had to be pushing that hope away in fear of losing it. Geralt kept telling himself that, because he couldn't believe that the bard might really want to be killed. It was easier to think that his companion was asking for death, because he didn’t see another option.

The witcher heard hurried steps from inside the cabin and breathed out a sigh of relief. He knew the sound of Yennefer’s walk. The sorceress was thankfully here. A moment later she indeed showed up in the doorway.

She was dressed in a simple purple gown that accentuated the color of her eyes. The purple irises were watching the witcher suspiciously right now. When she spotted Jaskier behind him she shook her head in disbelief, her wavy black hair following her movements. She crossed her arms on her chest.

„Really, Geralt?”, she huffed gesturing towards the bard. „You really had to drag him into our matters too? I thought you were done with him”, she accused. 

„It’s lovely to see you too, Yennefer!”, Jaskier greeted her with a mocked joyful tone. „You can’t even imagine how happy I was when I heard we were comming to visit you!”.

Geralt sighed, pinching the bridges of his nose.

„I have a problem”, he simply announced, entering the cabin without invitation. The witcher saw the surprised look Yennefer sent him when he was passing her by. He never walked into any place without being invited first. He decided to break that unwritten rule now. He didn't have time for verbal scuffles.

„I can see that”, she frowned, following him. She gestured for Jaskier to come in as well. „Is something wrong with Ciri?”, she asked nervously once they settled in her small living room. It was beutifuly decorated, just as Geralt suspected. He didn't focus on that too much, though. 

Before the witcher could open his mouth, Yennefer’s attention was already somewhere else. Jaskier rushed to sit in the corner and the movement forced the sorceress to look at him closer. She obviously noticed how skinny and pale the bard was.

„You look like hell”, she breathed out. Jaskier simply snorted at that. Yennefer sent a questioning glance at Geralt.

„My problem exactly”, he explained.

„Yeah, this time I refuse to take any responsibility for being your problem”, the bard unexpectedly snaped at him. „I didn’t want to be here! You forced me! I only asked you for something that would take five minutes of your precious time!”, he shouted indignantly.

Clearly, Gerald chose to use the wrong words. Again. He didn’t want to call Jaskier his problem. His problem was that Jaskier had a problem. He cursed under his breath. The bard opened his mouth to shout at him some more.

„Okay, that's enough”, Yennefer stopped him, her voice full of authority. „What is exactly happening here?”.

„Jaskier is kind of dead”, said Geralt simply. The sooner he will let it out, the better.

„Jaskier is what?”, she turned to face him with wide eyes.

„Dead”, repeated the bard. „I killed myself. It’s called suicide. Jumped off the tree with a rope around my neck. Got myself turned into specter, so I walk the Continent as a damned now. Just my luck I think. The brute here”, he pointed to Geralt, „stole my rope to force me to come to see you. He thinks you can bring me back. And for the record, I only asked him to kill me with his sword. Bothering you was not my intention whatsoever, so blame him for that”.

The room fell silent after the bard’s short but pretty sufficient explanation. Jaskier took a defensive stance, bracing himself for the sorceress’s mockery and laughter.

„Gods, Jaskier, that’s...”, Yennefer clearly couldn’t find the right words. „Why... why did you do that?”.

Her reaction surprised the bard, his defensive stance wavered. He wasn’t expecting to hear gentelness in her voice.

„I don’t know”, he admitted quietly. „I think I was... little depressed maybe? I don’t think I was thinking about suicide directly, but... There was that man, who promised to take the feeling away from me. It was all so foggy, I ened up with a rope and...”.

„What man?”, the question was asked both by Geralt and Yennefer at the same time.

„I don’t know”, the bard repeated with a force in his voice. „I wasn’t thinking clearly. I think he enchanted me somehow”.

For some reason the thought that maybe Jaskier didn’t choose death entirely by himself, at least at first, made the witcher feel better. It was giving him a small hope that what he has done at the top of the mountain could be repaired.

„Can you undo that, Yen?”, he finally asked the most important question. The man Jaskier has met was the topic for later.

The sorceress frowned deeply, examining Jaskier with a careful look. The bard was nervously playing with the edge of Geralt’s black shirt he was still wearing.

„Did he try to do that himself?”, she finally asked.

„What?”, snapped Geralt.

„Did he try to reverse the curse by himself? To repair himself somehow?”, she repeated, looking expectantly at the bard.

„I... I stabbed myself”, Jaskier admitted after a while. That earned him Geralt’s frightened glance. „Then tried to be stabbed by someone else. It didn’t work”, he muttered.

Yennefer's face turned sad, although she tried to hide it.

„Jaskier... can you go outside and take care for Roach? I’m sure she’s hungry after such a long journey”, she asked quietly.

The bard looked straight into her eyes. It was full of compassion and sympathy. Jaskier has never seen her looking like that. She didn’t have to voice anything out loud for him to knew what she wanted to tell Geralt. The witcher clearly realized that as well, because his whole body went stiff. He was avoiding Jaskier’s eyes now.

„There is no other option than to kill me, isn’t there?”, the bard smiled weakly. Geralt wanted to shake him hard, because that smile had a hidden a trace of triumph behind it.

Yennefer sighed deeply.

„Jaskier, please. Let me speak to Geralt first”, she pleaded. It was probably the first time the sorceress asked him for something kindly, instead of ordering him around.

„Okay”, he said and headed for the door.

Silence fell in the room as the bard closed them silently behind him. Yennefer discreetly looked out of the window to make sure that the bard had actually gone to the horse and was far away enough not to hear her conversation with Geralt.

„You have to kill him”, she announced sharply, turning around to face the witcher. Geralt closed his eyes, looking as if she had just slapped him hard. Pure despair crossed his face.

„I can’t, Yen”, his voice broke. „I’m not strong enough. Can’t you do something?”, he looked defeated.

„I’m sorry, Geralt”, she shook her head, the light reflected on her jet black hair. „He is the only one who could have reversed that”, she stated.

The witcher’s head snapped at that, eyes going wide with hope. He saw the shadow flashing across her face, though. He knew he won’t hear what he wanted to hear, but he had to ask anyway.

„So it can be reversed?”, he needed to confirm that.

„Forget it, Geralt. You can’t force him to do that”, she sighed. „Don’t get your hopes up”, she added.

„How can he reverse that?”, the witcher clearly wanted to dwell on that. His voice was demanding. If there was some kind of a way out, he couldn’t let it go. He had to know.

„He would have to want to live”, she answered, looking sad.

Geralt looked dumbfounded. He gave the sorceress an incredulous glance.

„That’s it?”, he wanted to make sure.

„Yeah”, breathed out Yennefer. Seeing that Geralt was preparing himself to stand up, clealry to carry the news to Jaskier, she added. „It’s not that simple, though. Jaskier doesn’t want to live”.

The witcher snorted in disbelief, not accepting that statement.

„Geralt, you forced him to go with you. As much as I understood, he asked you to kill him”, Yennefer put her hands on her hips, trying to make him see her point.

„That was because he didn’t know there could be an other option”, the witcher growled at her.

„That was because he didn’t want to live”, the sorceress argued. „If he wanted, if he found the reason to live, he could break the curse anytime. Anytime, Geralt”, she underlined the last words with a strong voice.

„Eskel said he saw a specter coming back to life”, the witcher wasn’t giving up.

„Did he say how?”, Yennefer raised her eyebrow at him.

Geralt made a sound that indicated that he did not.

„If he saw a specter coming back, then that person had to overcome their death wish”, she explained.

„So that’s what we have to do with Jaskier”, the witcher perked up visibly.

The sorceress gave him a sad shake with her head. She approached Geralt and sat next to him. She put her hand on his arm, squeezing it in the sign of support.

„I know it’s hard, but you have to let him go, Geralt”, she said with a calm and gentle voice. When the witcher made a sound of protest, she continued. „He is stuck in that state for years, now. Nothing he did in that time made him change his mind. The time he spent with you while travelling here didn’t change his mind. He want it all to end, Geralt”.

The witcher was refusing to meet Yennefer’s eyes. She didn’t press on making a contact. The sorceress knew that he didn’t like to show his emotion and that right now he had plenty of them swirls inside of him. She could tell it by the glistening in his eyes, before he turned away from her.

„If you care about him, and I know you do, you have to follow his wish”, she said. „Don’t force him to please you with trying to find a will to live again. It will hurt both of you even more. Jaskier suffered enough. Put him to rest, Geralt”, she whispered the last words.

The witcher put his face in his hands.

„I know you are right, Yen. I know, but...”, his voice was full of pain.

„It’s hard, I understand”, the witcher felt a gentle touch of her hand on his shoulder. „I will be here to help you after it is done”, she reassured him.

They sat in silence for a while. With his witcher hearing Geralt could hear that Jaskier was quietly speaking to Roach, probably weaving some flowers in her mane.

The bard asked him for help, he put his trust in him to end his suffering. And Geralt only made it worse. He didn’t care about Jaskiers feelings. He completely ignored them. He was dragging the bard around and watching him squirming in unbelievable pain. With a dread he realized that he cared only about his own comfort. About his own need to have Jaskier close. He was selfish and egoistic.

Jaskier probably hated him. The bard had every right to consider him the heartless monster. The witcher wouldn’t be surprised by that at all. Currently he hated himself as well.

The fact that he was guided by his love for the bard wasn’t an explanation good enough. It took him two decades to admit to himself that this loud and annoyingly cheerful bard has made his way right into the depths of his stone heart. He was surprised, but also happy that he could actually truly love someone. Now Geralt wasn’t sure his love was the good kind of love, though. He heard that when you love someone, you are willing to make any kind of a sacrifice for that person.

Geralt wasn’t willing to sacrifice Jaskier’s life for Jaskier’s sake.

But Yennefer was right. The bard needed him to do what the witcher so badly wanted to avoid. It was the time to throw his own comfort aside. He had to put his friend’s needs first, even though they were completely contrary to his own.

„We shouldn’t waste time sitting here”, he heard Yennefer whispearing. „Go outside and spend what is left of the day with him. Show him that you are his friend. And when the night comes, do what has do be done”.

Geralt straightened up. For a moment he only stared blankly at the far wall. Then he sighed and wiped his eyes with a discreet gesture. He nodded.

The witcher got up and headed towards the door.

It was the time to say goodbye.


	8. The final hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was fun to write this chapter, I hope it'll be fun to read it as well :)
> 
> „Czyliż niewinna miłość wieczna godnej męki?  
> Ten sam Bóg stworzył miłość, który stworzył wdzięki.  
> On dusze obie łańcuchem uroku  
> Powiązał na wieki z sobą!”  
> \- A. Mickiewicz, „Dziady” cz. IV
> 
> (So is the innocent love worthy of eternal torment?  
> The same God created love, who created charms.  
> Both souls with the chain of spell  
> He bonded together for ages!)

Geralt decided to just stay in the doorway for a moment. He wanted to capture the scene in front of him and kept it in his mind forever. Jaskier was standing across he small yard, handing pieces of chopped carrot to Roach, whispering gently something about good horses not getting enough of treats from grumpy witchers. As he expected, there were dozens of small yellow flower in Roach’s mane already. Jaskier was definitely the only human allowed to touch her, any other would probably have their fingers bitten off by now. And yet, Roach stood there calmly, twitching her ears at the sound of the bard’s voice. It seemed that Jaskier made his way not only to Geralt’s heart.

The witcher would watch Jaskier taking care of Roach much longer if the bard didn’t notice his presence. The younger man was probably aware that he was being watched from the very begining. Years of travelling with the witcher had surely sharpened his senses to be better than of most humans. His suspition was confirmed when Jaskier looked up without any trace of surprice on his features and sent him an expectant glance.

Geralt took a deep shaky breath and slowly headed towards the bard. Every step weighed a ton, it was hard to lift the shoe off the ground. The witcher felt as if he was walking to listen to his last judgement, knowing that his sins ensured him a truly mighty fall. With every step he was also becoming more and more aware of the weight of the silver sword attached to his back. Perhaps it was exactly what was pinning him to the ground in a way that was making walking so difficult right now.

In few short hours that sword will be stained with Jaskier’s blood. The conversation with Yennefer forced Geralt to get rid of his illusions. His sword will be dipped in blood of the same Jaskier who was now standing next to Roach with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for him to approach. The thought made Geralt dizzy.

He had no doubts that he is going to hate himself after the upcoming night.

„How wnet the small talk with the witch?”, Jaskier's voice was emotionless, the look on his face told Geralt that the bard was distrustful towads him right now.

He was getting what he deserved, though. The bard’s clearly defensive stance caused the witcher to lose the remnants of his self-confidence. He couldn’t get any words out of himself, all that came out of his throat was a guttural grunt.

„As eloquent as ever”, the bard snorted in response. He took a deep breath, probably to chasten the witcher some more. Geralt knew that he would’t be able to take it right now, so before Jaskier could start his monologue, the witcher blurted out what he came here to say in the worst possible way.

„I will kill you”, he announced sharply.

„Excuse me?”, the bard asked, clearly surprised, his eyes went wide. Only after a moment of relentlessly stretched silence his eyes started to sparkle with understanding. „Really? You’ll do it?”, he demanded confirmation.

Geralt wasn’t able to look straight at Jaskier’s face, so he kept his sight on his own shoes. The only thing he could do was to give him a slight nod with his head. He didn’t really trust his voice anymore.

„As if... you’ll do it today?”, the bard tried to clarify.

The witcher only nodded again.

He wasn’t sure what kind of reaction was he expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the one he got. Jaskier suddenly threw himself at him, closing the witcher in a strong embrace. His face cuddled against Geralt's chest.

„Thank you. Thank you. Thank you”, the bard started mumbling softly into his shirt.

This stunned Geralt. He was ready for Jaskier to lash out at him for not finding the other solution, for dragging him all the way here clearly without any reason and for wasting his time and making him suffer more. He didn’t know if he liked the fact that the bard’s reaction was different, though. It was a bright proof that Jaskier wasn’t hoping for salvation. He was hoping for death. The unpleasant realisation that Yennefer has most likely been right was hard to reconcile with.

Anyway, the witcher, usually so opposed to giving any signs of affection, found himself returning the hug. He wrapped his arms around Jaskier and placed his cheek on top of the bard's head. He wanted to shield the younger man from all the evil of this world. Having him against his chest like that fell incredibly good. Geralt inhaled deeply, wishing to feel the scent of lavender and chamomile.

The almost imperceptible smell of death and decay, however, prevented him from pretending that everything was all right. It was like getting a powerful slap from the reality.

The lack of Jaskier’s comment on his unusual behavior was speaking plenty, too. In normal circumstances the bard would have probably said something alone the lines „I knew that deep down you always were a big softie, you brute”. Geralt smiled sadly at that thought.

„I’m sorry, Jaskier”, he whispered. „I’m so sorry for making you suffer that long”.

In response, the bard hugged him tighter.

„I did that, I brought you here, because I couldn’t imagine my life without you. I know I was selfish and didn’t take your feelings under consideration. Please, forgive me”, he begged.

Jaskier stepped away from him slightly and looked at him with a frown.

„Wasn’t getting rid of me your life’s blessing?”, the honesty and conviction in the bard's voice made Geralt feel as if someone has stuck a dagger right into his heart.

The witcher made a pained noise. It was certainly his last chance to right his wrongs with Jaskier. If they won’t have that conversation right now, the bad blood between them will stick forever. It was a dreadful vision, having to live next decades knowing that Jaskier died thinking that the witcher hated him.

Geralt looked up. The sun was still high on the sky. There was still a time. He wanted to be right next to the bard until the very end. He couldn’t force Jaskier to spend his last hours with the monster the younger man probably despised, though. Yet, he knew he will regret it if he won’t ask.

„Will you agree to give me some of your time? I want to talk to you before... before the night”, he managed to say weakly. „I swear by all that is dear to me that I will fulfill your wish as soon as the sun goes down”, he promised. „You know it won’t work ealier, after all”, Geralt felt that he needed to clarify that fact. He had to make his request resonable.

„You are certainly getting better at words”, Jaskier gave him a small smile, tipping his head to the side. „Come on. I want to enjoy the sun and the scent of grass, there’s a truly beautiful meadow nearby. We can talk, but I’m afraid for that to happen you have to follow me there”.

Geralt didn’t have to be told twice. He rushed behind his bard. He would follow him anywhere right now.

If enyone asked for the witcher’s opnion, he would have said it was a rather average meadow. The usual clearing overgrown with tall grasses. Only in few places it was covered in dandelions, chamomiles and cornflowers. Nothing out of ordinary. Jaskier was delighted though, so Geralt didn’t comment. If the bard was content, so was he. Jaskier lied down in the shade of the nearest tree and gestured for the witcher to join him. When he settled next to the bard, the younger man sighed, clearly pleased with the moment.

„I could spend the eternity in here”, he announced. Then he turned his head quickly towards Geralt, „Can you burry me here?”, he asked with full seriousness.

A vision of himself digging a hole to dump the martyred remains of his friend flashed in front of Geralt’s eyes. It was a very vivid vision. It made him want to throw up.

„I will”, the witcher promised nonetheless, feeling that his heart was sinking painfully. He couldn’t refuse Jaskier. He wouldn’t leave the bard’s body behind anyway, so if the younger man had any wishes in this regard, Geralt will follow them.

„Thanks”, Jaskier simply smiled at him and started picking some yellow flowers as if they weren’t talking about his grave mere seconds ealier.

Geralt didn’t know how to react to that. He didn’t know how to start the conversation he was postponing the entire week. The witcher tried to collect his thoughts while watching Jaskier. After a while he realised that the bard was weaving a wreath. It was probably not his first wreath, as his fingers were wrapping the stalks with exquisite agility. Or maybe he owed this agility to his ability of playing the lute. Jaskier was playing on that instrument far better than any other bard he has ever heard. Not that he ever complimented any of Jaskier’s performances. He pretended to be unaffected by the other man’s talent, but...

But why was he going on about that inside of his head, when he was clearly running out of time?! He should be saying things out loud for once in his life! He growled at himself, which earned him a concerned glance from Jaskier.

„I enjoy your music”, he blurted out and instantly felt a need to kick himself hard.

The bard looked at him, clearly surprised. He opened his mouth, but then changed his mind and closed them. He opened them again.

„It is shame I don’t have a lute, then”, he finally said. „I’d gladly give you a personal performance”.

For some reason, the thought of Jaskier singing just for him made a shiver run through his spine.

„What happened to it?”, he decided to distract himself with a question.

„I don’t know. I don’t remember too much from... right before”, the bard shrugged. „Probably left it with that man who sent me right to my death”.

The witcher hummed. Geralt never enjoyed torturing people, but if he ever finds that man, he is going to make him suffer. Truth to be told, that will be probably his first mission after this night. He will have to take his revenge.

„It was a fine lute”, the witcher grumbled. He saw a sad look crossing Jaskier’s face. The music was everything to him and it was taken away from him together with his life. „It’s all my fault”, he finally admitted.

„What is your fault?”, Jaskier frowned.

„You. Being here. In that state”, the witcher explained. „I did that to you”.

„No. It was me”, the bard immediately argued. „I should have been stronger. I was a mess and got myself into troubles again. And now I need the witcher in a shiny armor to make it right”, he smiled sadly. „I’m really sorry that I’m forcing you to do that”, he added.

The witcher’s face darkened. It wasn’t Jaskier who was supposed to be apologizing.

„If I didn’t say those words on the mountain everything would be fine”, Geralt tried to reason with him. „You would tail after me, so I would be there to get you out of any kind of mess you fell into”.

„It’s okay, Geralt”, the bard sent him another small smile. „I wasn’t expecting you to put up with such a nuisance as myself for that long. You lasted two decades, which is even more than my own family did. I should be grateful. I knew you would send me away one day. Everyone always did. It was me who was stupid for not seeing that coming”.

The witcher’s heart shrank painfully. He wanted to hawl. No wonder that Jaskier didn’t want to live if he thought of himself so low, as the inconvenience to literally everyone. Everyone was stupid. They didn’t see what a treasure Jaskier was. Geralt didn’t see that for a long time too. It was the evidence of their enormous stupidity, but at the same time it was making Jaskier see himself as someone worthless.

How many times the bard heard word similar to those that Geralt had shouted to him of that fucking mountain?

_If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!_

How terribly wrong he was. It was Jaskier who was his life’s blessing. The man who appeared out of nowhere and decided to glue himself to the witcher’s side. The man who was deaf literally to all threats Geralt was sending his way. Who behaved as if the two very scary looking swords on his back were some kind of harmless dummies. The man who treated his wounds, washed the insides of monsters from his hair and kept himself unnaturally quiet when the witcher was under the potion’s influence, knowing that loud sounds are painful for him then. The man who wrote dozen of songs about him, most of them absurdly annoying, yet letting him be seen in a better light. The man who for years had been drilling a hole in the witcher's petrified heart until he finally fell right into it. Geralt couldn’t even tell when that has happened.

Somewhere along the way they became inseparable. It was always the witcher and his bard. The bard and his witcher.

The truth was that because of Jaskier, Geralt could feel a little more like human. The bard was digging up everything that was covered with a thick dust by the strict witcher lessons. The younger man made the Path more bearable and much more interesting.

Geralt would be lost without him. He will be lost without him.

He knew that for what he did, he absolutely deserved to be alone for the rest of his long miserable life. He deserved having Jaskier taken away from him. But Jaskier didn’t deserve for that to happen like that. Geralt should have had his bard taken away by some beautiful woman, who Jaskier would have married with. Or by some very important noble, who would have took care of making Jaskier even more famous.

Not by the cruel death.

Geralt took a deep breath. He had to make Jaskier see his point. He had to show him that he cares. It was enough of hiding behind being an emotionless witcher. It already caused a huge irreversible damage.

„Jaskier”, he made sure that his voice sounded sharp and demanding. He knew that the bard will react to it by drawing his full attention to the witcher. When the cornflower blue eyes finally met his yellow ones, he changed his tone of voice to a softer one. „You are the best thing that has ever happened to me”, he has put all honesty in those words.

Jaskier’s eyes winded.

„Out of the two of us it’s me who is the shit shoveler”, he continued. „I destroyed my own life with my inability to control my temper and by making shitty decisions. I would be fine with that if not for the fact that my shitty decisions destroyed your life as well. I'm sorry, Jaskier”.

„Is this the actual apology for the mountain?”, the bard asked, still unsure.

„For the mountain and for all the terrible things I have ever said to you”, he confirmed. „I know it doesn’t repair anything, no matter how much I want it to. But I need you to know that”.

Jaskier was opening his mouth to say something, but Geralt didn’t let him. He knew if that if the bard said anything right now, the witcher would chicken out.

„I need you to know that I love you”, he blurted out quickly, closing his eyes, waiting for the bard to laugh right into his face.

When nothing like that happened, the witcher dared to glance at Jaskier. The younger man was staring at him wide eyes, clearly in shock. Geralt could see different emotion mixing up inside of those blue eyes. There was disbelief, shy hope, and then the rage in them. The bard frowned angrily.

„You can’t say things like that!”, he suddenly shouted, pushing away the witcher who was still sitting next to him. „You are not allowed to do things like that!”, he jumped up, backed away and then started racing towards the woods.

„Jaskier!”, Geralt called after him, then cursed under his breath. Maybe he shouldn’t have said it, after all. Without thinking about it any deeper, he run after the bard.

It wasn’t difficut to catch up to him, although the moment of hestitation at the beginning gave the bard some privileged conditions. Geralt was not only much stronger, but also faster. He closed his hand in a firm grip around the bard’s wrist, forcing Jaskier to face him. The younger man’s eyes were shining in despair, Geralt knew that in normal circumstances there would be tears falling down the bard’s face.

Jaskier started to struggle, trying to break his arm free. Thankfully, he didn’t have enough of strength in this form. The witcher’s grip reminded unmoved.

„Let me go!”, the bard screamed.

For a brief moment the witcher began to wonder if the screams won’t provoke Yennefer's reaction. He doubted that the sorceress will come to the bard’s rescue, knowing that Geralt is with him. It was possible for her to come to kill both of them for risking her hiding place, though.

„Jaskier, calm down!”, he demanded.

„Calm down? Calm down!”, the bard laughed darkly. „I will if you just stop using my feelings to gain whatever it is that you are trying to gain in here!”.

„I’m not trying to gain anything!”, the witcher growled through clenched teeth.

„Oh, really? That’s a relief”, he mocked him. „Because here I thought it is yet another of your great ideas to guilt trip me into trying to find a way to reverse the curse. I don’t know why you are so adamant to do that, though. Lying about your feelings for me is pretty low, so...”.

Geralt didn’t know what to do to stop the bard’s tirade. So he did the only thing that came to his mind. He lunged at Jaskier, grabbed his black shirt, and pulled it violently forward. The bard was too surprised with a sudden movement to do anything. Geralt leaned to meet Jaskier’s lips.

The kiss was rough at first. Geralt definitely exaggerated with its strength and intensity. The fact that the bard frozen in his spot wasn’t helping. The witcher tensed, thinking that he has made a mistake and wanted to let Jaskier go with a heavy sigh, but in the same moment Jaskier melted and began to shyly kiss Gerlat back. Although, after a very short moment there was nothing left out of that shyness.

The witcher dared to smile against the bards lips. He was too preoccupied with exploring Jaskier’s mouth, but he was pretty sure that the smile earned him a light playful slap in the arm from the bard. Geralt hugged Jaskier tighter with one hand, the other one weaving in his hair. He wanted to transfer into the kiss everything that he was so unable to express with words. It became more heated and passionate.

It was almost perfect. The only missing thing was the scent of lavender and chamomile. The natural scent of Jaskier, which the witcher secretly adored and which was taken away by the curse. Geralt tried to ignore that, though. He didn’t want to think about the upcoming night, he wanted that moment to last as long as possilbe.

The kiss continued for a little longer, until they were both out of breath. Geralt stepped back slightly and looked into Jaskier’s bright eyes.

„I’m not lying”, he whispered softly. „I do love you. Pretty damn much”.

The bard studied him carefully for a moment. Geralt tried to keep his face open, to let his feelings be seen. He didn’t like to be vulnerable, but Jaskier deserved to know everything. If the witcher wasn’t able to find the right words to communicate him that, the only other option was letting him see that.

„I love you too”, Jaskier finally whispered back, allowing himself to smile shyly.

It was like someone has taken an extremely heavy weight from Geralt's shoulders. The witcher relaxed slightly. He pulled the bard into another hug, pressing him tightly to his chest.

„I didn’t say that to guilt trip you into anything”, he felt that he needed to clarify that. „I care deeply about you and I will do what you need me to do, even though it will hurt me terribly. I would rather spend the rest of my life with you by my side. But you matter the most. I will put you to rest, Jaskier. I just needed you to know that I love you”.

In response, the bard nestled in his arms tighter.

They were standing like that. The witcher and his bard. Geralt could feel his own heart fluttering in his chest. It felt both lighter and heavier at the same time. Lighter, because Jaskier apparently believed in his feelings. Heavier, because he regreted that he didn’t express them sooner.

The witcher didn’t registered the lengthening shadows of the trees that surrounded them. He didn’t see the last rays of the sun disappearing behind the trees. That’s why the a sudden muffled cry of pain startled him at first. Jaskier let go of him and bend forward, falling to the ground. Geralt immediately crouched next to him.

The level of adrenaline in the witcher's body jumped high. The panic filled him. He couldn't make any logical thought, his brain was only repeating „no, no, no” in what seemed to be an endless loope. It was a firm grip of Jaskier's hand on his knee and a silent pained whisper that brought him back to reality.

„You promised, Geralt”, the bard reminded him.

The words echoed inside of his head. He did make the promise. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, but nodded.

„I love you”, he whispered one more time, stroking the bard's cheek lightly.

Jaskier smiled at him, even though his face was grimacing in pain now. The convulsions intensified and a moment later the cornflower blue eyes rolled into the bard’s head.

Geralt reached for the silver sword.


	9. For the new beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we reached the final chapter. I didn't intend to make it longer than the previous ones, but it feel like it kind of wrote itself. I hope it makes up for the way I treated our favourite couple and for these cliffhangers I seem to enjoy way too much. Let me know what you think! :)
> 
> "Róża, ta róża żyje!  
> Wstąpiła w nią dusza,  
> główką lekko rusza,  
> jaki ogień z niej bije!"  
> \- A. Mickiewicz, „Dziady” cz. III
> 
> (Rose, this rose is alive!  
> The soul accessed its inside,  
> moves its head slightly,  
> what a fire illuminates out of it!)

Geralt was calmly brooding in the corner. His face dark, his eyes staring in anger at the opposite wall. His anger, as usual, was directed at himself. The only thing that was out of ordinary was that he wasn’t sitting in some dingy tavern, but in the nicely decorated Yennefer’s hideout. Beautiful velvet curtains and vases with fresh flowers made a caricature impression when among them sat a grumpy witcher. Being at Yennefer’s meant that he couldn’t count on his gloomy posture and murderous look earning him some well-deserved peace. While it was indeed a perfect way to scary off the pushy and curious villagers, it clearly did not affect the confident sorceress.

A minute ealier Yennefer appeared in the threshold. She put her hands on her hips and was looking at Geralt expectantly. The witcher simply chose to ignore her. Recently the sorceress’s sermons were starting to get on his nerves, especially since she was once again right. He decided that it wasn’t doing anyhting good for her ego.

 _He would have to want to live_. Her words echoed in his head.

If he knew that ealier, if he knew what that meant, he would have saved Jaskier a lot of suffering. The fact that he was an emotionally backwarded coward reflected with full strength on the innocent bard. Geralt was angry at himself for that.

„You are truly hopeless”, the sorceress sighed. „And completely useless, may I add”.

„There is nothing I can do”, he growled in irritation.

„Yes, be aggressive, it never ends up with it biting your ass, after all”, she huffed amused.

Geralt growled once again. It sounded like a silent threat coming from the depths of his throat. He really wasn’t in a humor to conduct any verbal skirmishes with the sorceress now. The sound did not have the desired effect, though. Yennefer still stood there with her hands on her hips.

„You can’t just sit like that, you’ll go crazy. Here”, she approached him confidently and handed him a polished gray stone. The witcher sent her a questioning glance. „It will teleport you to Novigrad. You will go shopping there”, she casually explained.

Geralt looked at her in disbelieve. The anger started to arise inside of him with the full force now. Who was he? A young girl who can be comforted by a new fancy dress? Or a new fancy sword?

„I’m not moving from here!”, he roared.

„I need some herbs. You could be of use and bring them to me”, she argued, handing him the paper on which, in a very neat handwriting, she made a list of products.

„I’m not your servant. Do your own shopping”, he grumbled.

„I would, but as it happens, I currently have a patient I shouldn’t be leaving alone”, the witcher opened his mouth to inform her of his need to be close as well, but before he could make any sound, she added. „My presence here is at the moment much more essential than yours. Besides, I will need those herbs for _him_ ”.

That was an argument he couldn’t argue with.

„Judgeing by his state, he probably won’t wake up at least untill tomorrow anyway”, she continued. „So you can do something useful first and then glue yourself to his side. He won’t even know you went anywhere”.

Geralt hummed, indicating that he is thinking about it.

„These herbs will really help him”, she added.

That was the final point. Yennefer didn’t have to say anything else. If that was going to help Jaskier, then he was going to bring these stupid weeds, even if he had to search the entire Continent for them. Which probably won’t be necessary, since you could buy pretty much everything in Novigrad.

„Fine”, he grunted and took the stone. „But if he wakes up...”.

„I will tell him that I sent you for herbs and that you will be back soon”, she rolled her eyes at him.

Geralt made a low growl and reached for his swords. They were lying on the nerbay regiment. Even if he was only going out only to fetch some sorceress's assortment, he wanted to have them with him. You could never know when you come across some shady people. Nilfgaard’s informants were still all around the Continent and he and Cirilla were still wanted fugitives.

„There is a protective spell around the stone. No one should be able to track you, so you can safely come back straight here”, Yennefer explained.

The witcher nodded and dressed his hood. His features were rather memorable and it was better not to attract any unwanted attention on the crowded streets of a big city in recent times. He threw his swords on his back with an effortless movement. He was worried that he will have a grudge against at least one them after last night, but nothing like that happened. Neither was stained with Jaskier's blood, after all.

Geralt remembered vividly the exact moment the bard’s eyes rolled into back of his head. He remembered the pure panic that filled him at that sight. That was meant to be the last time he saw Jaskier in a somewhat normal form. It was going to be replaced by a decaying mindless corpse he would have to behead with a quick movement of the silver sword.

He wanted to believe that it was that panic that has clouded his mind. Otherwise he would have noticed that something was different the moment the bard lost consciousness. The fact that Jaskier went limp literally in his arms before any signs of transformation were shown should have been a sufficient enough indication. Geralt has seen how the bard turns into the specter a dozen or so times. It has never looked like that. Firstly Jaskier was struck by pain, that matched. But then he was starting to howl watching himself fall apart. That unbelivable pain and shock was bringing a brief blackout followed by the appearance of the monster.

This time Geralt was left standing over unconscious Jaskier with the sword in his trembling hand ready to be used.

The point was, there was no sign of decay on the body of the bard. The younger man didn’t get up grinning rotten teeth with the intention of immersing them in the witcher's neck. He was simply laying on the ground, completely still.

Geralt was confused. He was stuck in the place, he couldn’t look away from the motionless figure. He waited vigilantly for any sign of an ongoing transformation. Seeing or hearing none, he finally kneeled down next to the bard in a rush movement. He barely registered the sound of his sword being dropped to the ground. The witcher’s hand unwittingly travelled to the bard's neck in search for his pulse. Subconsciously, he knew it was pointless. Jaskier heart wasn’t beating like the heart of a human ever since the bard decided to jump off that damned tree.

So his surprise was truly enormous when he felt a warm, steady beat under the pads of his fingers.

His eyes winded and his heart speeded up to the pace unknown to witchers. Jaskier was in his arms in the blink of an eye. Geralt picked him up from the ground and raced towards the sorceress's cabin.

„Yennefer!”, he shouted crossing the threshold, his voice full of fear. He still couldn’t understand what was happening.

The sorceress appeard a few seconds latar, clearly alarmed by Geralt’s sudden and very noisy entrance. She suspected that once his task is done the witcher will stay with Jaskier’s corpse the whole night, trying to somehow recover from the traumatic event. Yennefer decided to be respectful and don’t seek him out before he will be ready.

She did not expect the witcher barging in with burning wild eyes and the bard’s body in his arms.

„Geralt”, she tried to gently guide him back to reality.

„Something’s not right”, he stated, his voice foreign to his own ears. „He collapsed. He didn’t change”, he quickly explained.

Yennefer frowned and rushed to check the bard. Keeping a safe distance, she leaned in and studied Jaskier’s face for a moment. Then she looked up to Geralt, clearly amazed.

„What did you tell him?”, the sorceress asked him.

„What?”, snaped the witcher.

„What did you do before the sunset?”, she repeated.

The memory of their heated kiss flashed in front of Geralt’s eyes. He thought of the sparkles that suddenly appeared in Jaskier’s otherwise dead eyes. He felt the strange burning on his face.

„What’s wrong with him?!”, he snarled, fear mixing with a sudden anger.

„I asked you a question, Geralt”, Yennefer put her hands on her hips.

„Nothing!”, the witcher growled. The unyielding gaze of the sorceress forced him to develop that thought, though. „We talked. I... apologized for how I treated him. Told him that I care about him”.

Yennefer stared at him.

„Congratulations”, she finally huffed in disbelieve. „You really should have done that much sooner. It clearly would have saved me, you and him many troubles”, she shooke her head, her jet black hair following the movement.

„What happened with him, Yen?”, the witcher demanded the answer.

„I told you he could break the curse himself. He only needed to want to live”, she said.

Geralt frowned, not understanding what that meant. Yennefer indeed informed him that the will to live played a crucial role, but what did he have to do with it...? Suddenly, the realisation washed over him like a giant wave, his eyes daring to look at motionless figure in his arms. Does that meant... He did not dare to ask the question, so he only sent Yennefer a pleading glance. He wanted to hear it out loud. He was going to strangle the sorceress with his bare hands, if she just made a cruel joke.

„It looks like the curse broke”, she confirmed. She stepped closer and placed her hand gently on the Jaskier's cheek. Geralt allowed. She remained motionless for a moment then nodded her head. „The bard’s alive”, she announced and the witcher could swear he saw a relief flashing over her face. He suspected for a long time already that she has a soft spot for Jaskier too.

Yennefer’s words acted like balm on burning wounds. The witcher closed his eyes and took a deep wavy breath. He nestled the bard in his arms. There was no need to kill Jaskier. Jaskier will still be there, hopefully right at his side. Geralt wanted to cry with joy, but there was that one nagging thought.

„Why is he unconscious? Why was he twisting in pain?”, he asked, his voice full of emotion.

„No one has said that breaking the curse is painless”, Yennefer shrugged. „He blacked out, because his body has to recover after what the curse did to him during all these years”, she explained.

The witcher swallowed the lump that appeared in his throat.

„Will he?”, he wishpered. „Will he recover?”, the question of whether Jaskier was out of the woods hanged in the air.

„The process might have end up with him dying anyway”, she admitted. „But we both know your bard is stupidly stubborn and far too durable for a common man, which makes me wonder about his origin, by the way”.

„What?”, Geralt asked dumbly.

„From what we know he is in his forties”, the sorceress replied. „Does he look like that?”, she gestured to the bard’s form. Jaskier looked like shit, his face ashen and dark circles under his eyes, but there was no trace of wrinkles on his face or gray hair on his head.

Geralt hummed, surprised that he had never noticed it before.

„Exactly”, Yennefer waved her hand. „Come on, put him on the bed in my chamber. I’ll inspect him for any injuries and prepare him some strengthening decoction to make sure he will not leave this world now that he has apparantly started wanting to live”.

The witcher agreed to the offer without hesitation.

The sorceress was annoyed with him pacing around while she was working, so it ended up with her asking Geralt to leave the room in some very unkind words. The witcher went to retrive the sword he abandoned in the woods, but at the end he was forced to brood in her ridiculously well decorated living room.

And now he couldn’t even brood over his own stupidity. He dedicated the time he spent sitting in a corner after being chased out by Yennefer to thinking about what has happened. It seemed clear that those were his words that made Jaskier change his attitude to lfe. It was obviously enough to honestly tell him that he was important to the witcher. That Geralt needed him with everything that goes with it, including constant complainins about the hardships of the journey and annoyingly catchy songs. The witcher could have told him that days ago, possibly months or even years if he ever went looking for him. It was that easy to spare Jaskier terrible suffering, but he has chosen to be coward.

The witcher growled pushing between people in the crowded streets of Novigrad. He already received all herbs from Yennefer’s list. It wasn’t a demanding task. He simply barged into the first decent looking shop, forced the list into the owner's hands and bared his teeth at him. The witcher wasn’t in a mood of bargaining with a man, so he went for scaring him off. The terrified owner packed everything into a small bag and even gave him a discount.

It probably won’t do any good for his reputation, but he didn’t give a damn. He wanted to return to Jaskier’s side as fast as possibe. He was going to make sure he makes it all up to the bard. He swore to himself that he won’t push the younger man away ever again, that he won’t ever do anything that would make Jaskier doubt that the witcher cares for him.

Which meant he was going to teleport to the sorceress’s hideout as soon as he finds himself in a secluded place.

That was the plan until Geralt turned into a side street. He did not pay any attention to his surroundings, but the sign of one of the stores caught his sight anyway. He stopped dead in his tracks. He thoughtfully eyed the shop and weighed the purse in his pocket. The last orders were good, he couldn't complain about the lack of funds. And it was a good reason to deplete them.

 _„It’s shame I don’t have my lute”_ , the words echoed in his mind. They ultimately convinced him of the correctness of his intentions.

What use would be a bard without a lute? Jaskier was earning them a lot of money with that instrument. The witcher tried to fool himself that this, and not the sad expression of Jaskier’s face, was the reason he decided to enter the shop. He deep down knew better than that, though. The truth was he simply hoped that what he was planning will bring that beautiful bright smile to the bard’s face.

He was doomed, wasn’t he?

He looked around the inside of the shop. He caught the eyes of the surprised owner. The witcher with shiny swords on his back wasn’t probably the common sight in the store with instruments.

„I need a lute”, he announced, walking up to the man.

„A lute”, the man repeated dumbly. Geralt sighed in irritation.

„My bard needs a lute”, he corrected before the owner could start asking him why the monster slayer needs an instrument.

„Right, of course”, the man nodded with enthusiasm. „What kind of lute does he need?”.

Geralt knew nothing about lutes. Or he thought he knew nothing, since only a second later his mind started to recall all Jaskier’s babblings about the Filavandrel’s lute. He hummed.

„Show me the best you have”, he requested.

Maybe Geralt didn’t know the name of the wood that was the best for lutes, but he knew what it looked and felt like. He didn’t know what kind of strings is best, but he knew which one Jaskier was using. So he settled for that knowledge, while inspecting the few instruments the man lied down in front of him. He didn’t need much time, though. The one lute caught his eyes at the very beginning. He could imagine his bard playing on it on some rich court without a problem. It was made of the dark polished wood and had beautifully carved gold patterns. It had written „I belong to Jaskier” all over it. Sure, it was also the most expensive the man had, but his bard deserved to have not only the best instrument of this store, but of the entire Continent.

So now the witcher was walking down the street with two swords and one lute on his back. The instrument was neatly sealed in the case which he had also bought.

One more thought had struck him before he managed to leave the city walls. Jaskier needed new clothes too. He couldn’t possibly be walking around in his raggs or in the witcher’s shirts anymore. Geralt turned around and started looking for a tailor’s stand.

It was hard to get something decent right away, without previous measurement, but after visiting a few stalls he succeed to find something suitable enough. The dark blue doublet hemmed with a silver thread and matching trousers. The set simply caught his attention, the witcher immediately thought that it would emphasize the color of the bard's eyes. Though, if asked, he would never admit to that thought. He huffed to himself and added a plain white shirt to the set too.

Then he remembered Jaskier would need a decent pair of shoes for their travels. Geralt did not allow himself to think that the bard could refuse on accompany him on the Path. And even if he refused, decent shoes would still be useful to him.

When he finally reappeared in the Yennefer’s hideout, he was literally laden with things he bought. He might have to rethink that previous thought of not being a young girl who goes shopping to cheer herself up. As ridiculous as it was, he did feel better now.

He also feel scared, because he got so involved in the search for things for Jaskier, that he completely forgot about time. It was almost sunset. The witcher shivered at the thought. There was still a slight possibility that Yennefer was wrong and that the bard will turn into the specter again. He wanted to be at Jaskier’s side when the sun will start to hide behind the horizon. The witcher threw everything in the middle of the living room, making a noise. He was turning around ready to head to the sorcerees's bedroom, when he heard her quick steps.

Yennefer rushed into the room ready to attack the intruder. When she saw Geralt, she relaxed and scoffed under her breath.

„I was seriously starting to believe you decided to dump your bard again”, the sorceress said, smirking at the witcher’s murdeous look. „What took you so long?”, it was only then that her eyes fell on the things left in the middle of the room. She started to laugh. „Never mind. You bought new things for your bard!”, she rushed to look at them.

„I bought what is necessary”, he defended himself.

„Necessary”, she repeated. „You bought him a lute. That’s not the thing he couldn’t have lived without. And this”, she pointed to the navy doublet. „It’s too extravagant for you to convince me that you just got it at the random stall you came across to because the bard needed some clean clothes”.

„It matches his eyes”, the witcher muttered and instantly wanted to bang his head against the wall.

„I see that”, Yennefer laughed and sent him a bright smile. Seeing embarrassed expression on his face, she added. „You shouldn’t feel ashamed for expressing that you care about him. „These things”, she gestured towards the pile, „are perfect, Geralt. I’m sure Jaskier will appreciate them when he wakes up”, she assured him.

„Is he okay?”, he asked.

„He didn’t wake up, if that’s what you want to know”, the witcher face shown concern, so she explained it further. „It’s nothing we should be worry about. He simply sleeps. There’s no any indication that he is in pain or that he can’t cope with coming back to normal. On the contrary, he starts to look healthier. I supervise him all the time, everything is under control”.

Gerlat exhaled the air he was holding.

„Can I see him?”, he nervously looked out of the window. The shadows were slowly winning the battle with the light. Yennefer followed his gaze, immediately guessing why the witcher is so upset.

„Go ahead”, she allowed. „In the meantime I’ll prepare the herbs I hope you didn’t forget to buy”.

„They are there”, he waved to the pile and sprinted out of the room. The sorcerees only shooke her head in an amuzement.

Geralt slowed down before entering Yennefer’s bedroom. He slipped inside quietly, not to disturb the unconscious bard. Jaskier was lying on the bed, carefully wrapped in a warm blanket. The witcher came closer to get a better look on the man. His breath got caught in his throat at the sight. Yennefer was right, the bard looked better. He looked alive. There was no sign of a corpse pallor on his skin. On the contrary, Jaskier's cheeks were visibly flushed, but not in an unhealthy way. The shadows under his eyes were gone, too.

The man looked innocent and so young. The witcher made a mental note to ask him about his „amazing creams and good genes”, because that really was impossible.

Geralt reached to brush aside a few loose locks that fell over the bard's forehead. Then he settled in the nearby armchair, keeping the guard. Seeing Jaskier healthier made him believe that everything was going to be all right a little bit more, but he fully relaxed only after it got dark outside and the bard was still sleeping soundlessly.

That soundless sleep was interrupted in the early morning. Geralt was drifting on the verge of awareness. Somewhere in the middle of the night, when he understood that Jaskier is safe, he decided to meditate. The quiet short whimp from the bard's throat was enough to put Geralt back on his feet, though.

„Jaskier?”, he asked, launching himself to the younger man’s side, ready to call out for help.

The bard moved slightly and then his eyelids twitched.

„Jask, can you hear me?”, Geralt repeated, putting his arm gently on his shoulder.

„Yhmm”, the younger man muttered, nestling himself deeper in the blanket.

The witcher wanted to cry out with joy, even though he couldn’t be sure the sound the bard made was actually a conscious sound. Though, before he could do anything else, Jaskier’s eyes shot open. Geralt was honored with the sight of the bright blue irises. He sent the man a soft smile, which flattered when he saw a broken expression on the bard’s face.

Jaskier rose a little on his elbows and started to frankly look around. When his eyes finally settled on the witcher it was clear that the bard was at the verge of crying. Geralt frowned deeply. He wanted to ask Jaskier if anything hurts him, but the younger man was faster.

„You promised, Geralt”, he whispered sadly, his lips trembling.

The witcher understood. Jaskier didn’t know that the curse is gone. He probably was too agitated to feel any difference. He thought that Geralt broke his word and decided to let the bard suffer.

Tears started to flow down Jaskier’s face. The witcher wanted do something to calm the bard down. He reached to touch him, but Jaskier moved away. Geralt tried to hide his hurt expression. The bard wiped away his tears with a nervous gesture and then froze. He looked on his palm in wonder.

„I fully intended on fulfilling your wish, Jaskier”, Geralt informed him. „But you decided against that yourself”.

„What?”, he asked dumbly, still looking at his wet palm.

„You broke the curse”, the witcher couldn’t suppress the smile.

The bard’s head snapped to look at him with wide eyes.

„Wha... How? That is impossibe”, he clearly couldn’t find the right words.

„It was possible. There was a way to break the curse. You could do that yourself, you only needed to want that. To want to live”, he explained. „I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t want to put a weight of that on you. I didn’t want you to think that I expect anything from you. You made it clear that you wanted... all of that to end”, he added.

Jaskier huffed and started to inspect his hands. They were covered with a healthy looking skin, they had no postmortem discoloration.

„I’m alive”, he stated in an uncertain voice, like he was actually trying to convince himself of the truth of that sentence.

„How do you feel?”, the witcher asked. Jaskier wondered for a while.

„Hungry”, he admitted.

„That’s good, because I just prepared a stew for you”, Yennefer was leaning casually against the doorframe. She stepped inside and handed the bowl to the bard. „You have to eat all of that”, she warned. „I put there some very expensive strengthening herbs. If you waste them even Geralt won’t save you from my wrath”.

Jaskier only made an unidentified sound at that, as he was already absorbing the contents of the vessel.

„This is so good”, he announced with his mouth full. He actually felt the taste of the food, which was probably the reason why he complimented the very ordinary dish.

Yennefer rolled her eyes and headed for the door. She knew the boys need their bonding time.

„It’s good to see you alive, Jaskier”, she offered before leaving.

„It really must have been bad if she is being nice to me”, Jaskier commented in surprise, but then casually went back to eating.

By the time the bard finished his meal Geralt managed to relax. Jaskier was talktive, clearly had the appetite and looked healty enough. That meant he won’t be dying anytime soon.

There were other matters the witcher was still worried about, though.

„I am happy you are alive”, he stated.

„I’m happy about that too”, he smiled at Geralt. These words had taken an invisible weight from the witcher’s shoulders. They confirmed that the bard regained his will to live. And that he wasn’t mad that Geralt didn’t slit his throat. The witcher didn’t know how to behave now, though.

The uncomfortable silence fell in the room. Jaskier was nugging the hems of his blanket. Something was bothering him. He was clearly having an internal battle of some sort.

„Out with it, Jask”, the witcher demanded after a while.

„You kissed me”, the bard breathed out. „Was it... was it out of pity?”, he asked avoiding to look at Geralt. He looked like he was bracing himself for an upcoming blow.

The witcher’s heart sank in his chest. Didn’t he say enough for Jaskier to understand? He was scared that he won’t be able to find the right words, so he simply moved closer and cupped the bard’s face with his palms, forcing the younger man to look at him. Then he leanded down and captured his lips.

It felt different this time. There was a warmth radiating from Jaskier instead of the cold feeling of death. Geralt nostrils were filled with Jaskier's natural scent. It still lacked the lavender and chamomile, but it was his true scent nonetheless. It felt like home. The kiss was sweet and delicate, but didn’t last long.

The witcher withdrew slightly, connecting their foreheads.

„Did that feel like a pity?”, he asked, his voice hoarse.

„I don’t know?”, Jaskier stated, though it sounded more like a question.

Gerald growled at him and captured the bard’s lips again. This time it was with a much bigger force and passion. At some point he lost a balance and fell on Jaskier, pressing him lightly to the mattress. The bard didn’t seem to mind that, he only reached to weave his hands in the witcher’s hair to keep him closer. That kiss was much longer.

„Did that feel like a pity?”, he repeated the question when they finally parted. He couldn't help but press his face against the nape of Jaskier’s neck for a slight moment.

„I might never know”, the bard answered with full seriousness. He was visibly out of breath. „You might have to repeat that and ask me again”, he tried to keep his face blank, but his eyes were sending a joyful sparkles at the witcher.

„You are a tease”, Geralt rolled his eyes and started to get up. Jaskier made a sound of protest, grabbed him by the shirt and pulled down. The witcher didn’t resist. He only made a slight movement so that he could land next to Jaskier instead of on Jaskier. Then the bard happily nestled himself against Geralt’s chest. His content sigh made the witcher feel warmth growing inside of him. He pressed his lips the the bard's messy hair.

„Will you travel with me again?”, Geralt finally managed to voice out his most nagging question. Jaskier could feel the witcher’s fastened heart beating under his cheek.

„I’m afraid you are stuck with me for good now”, the bard simply smiled.

„I’m glad”, the witcher huffed, feeling the relief flows over his body.

„Without my lute I won’t be much of a use, though. I have to come up with a plan of how to make some money to contribute to our expenses”, he added.

The witcher’s body tensed. It earned him surprised and concerned look from Jaskier.

„Something’s wrong?”, the bard frowned.

„Stay here”, the witcher ordered and began to stand up. Jaskier tried to stop him, but Geralt sent him a reassuring glance. „I’ll be back in a minute”, he promised.

Jaskier wrapped his arms around himself, worried that he said something wrong. He forgot about that the moment the witcher entered the room again. His eyes winded. Geralt was holding the lute’s case.

„For you”, he simply said, biting his lower lip.

Jaskier was speechless, he couldn’t find any words. He accepted the case that was stretched out towards him. He looked at Geralt again uncertainly, but the witcher only gave him a short nod. Jaskier opened it carefully. His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of the instrument inside.

„Is it okay?”, Geralt asked him nervously.

Jaskier already had the lute on his lap, strumming it lightly.

„It’s perfect. Thank you”, the wide radiating smile on the bard’s face assured the witcher that he wasn’t lying. „Where did you get it?”.

„When you were out cold Yennefer sent me for some herbs to Novigrad. I came across it there. Thought you might like it”, he didn’t want to admit that he chose the lute himself from among many others. The playful sparkles in the bard’s eyes told him that Jaskier already guessed the truth anyway.

„It must have costed a fortune. I promise to give back everything”, the younger man commented, still trying out his new instrument.

„It’s a present, Jask”, the witcher muttered. „Besides, I can’t possibly have a bard with some dingy lute. I have standards”, he smirked.

The bard’s eyes winded at that. Geralt made a good job in keeping his face straight. Jaskier burst out with laugher. The sound was so beautiful, the witcher wanted to hear that as often as possible.

„I can’t believe you actually said that”, he breath out in between of another peals of laughter. The witcher raised a brow at him.

„I do have standards. Do you think I would let any average bard to tail behind me?”.

„That”, Jaskier pointed his finger at him. „is going to be the part of my next brilliant ballad. A song about the witcher with standards and his very handsome and very talented bard. It will be a true masterpiece”.

Geralt growled, barely suppressing the smirk, though. Jaskier laughed. It was a truly perfect moment.

A few hours later Geralt was sitting with Yennefer in her living room, waiting for Jaskier to join them. The bard refused to come to the table without cleaning himself up first. He got lost in the bathroom at least an hour ago, stating he needs to take care of his dashing look. Geralt only rolled his eyes at him.

„How do I look?”, Jaskier asked, finally gracing them with his presence.

The witcher’s eyes winded slightly. He was right assuming that the set he bought for Jaskier will emphasize the color of his eyes. The clothes were slightly too loose, but the bard was yet to regain his usual weight. Nonetheless, he indeed looked dashing in his new attire, with his new lute in his hands. The witcher felt proud he was the one who chose them for him.

The clothes were only an unimportant detail, though. What really caught Geralt’s attention was that now, when Jaskier put himself togehter, he really looked alive. His cheeks flushed, eyes bright, shiny hair in artistic disarray falling over his forehead. The most beautiful was that flirty smile of his, though. The bard new damn well that he looked handsome.

„Stop trying to seduce the witcher, you already have him”, Yennefer groaned. „And you, stop ogling the bard like that”.

Geralt was decent enough to look ashamed. Jaskier did not.

„Now come on, before the wine will get stale”, she ordered. „The bard takes longer in the bath than most of maidens”.

„I need my daily skin care to stay in a good shape”, Jaskier said indignantly.

„We need to talk about that, by the way”, Geralt sent him a knowing look. The bard was as cheeky as to smirk at him.

Yennefer poured their glasses and raised hers in a gesture of triumph.

„For the new beginning!”, she announced.

Jaskier smiled at both of them. Tomorrow they will set off on their way to Kaer Morhen, to unite with Ciri. The bard was looking forward to meeting the princess. The journey was going to be long and surely full of interesting adventures.

But that was tomorrow. Today they celebrated.


End file.
